It Could Have Been Me

An Armchair Perfectionist

girl

A mad peak time dash to the tube,

A burst of rain leaving her sopping wet.

Yet a rough hand dared creep up her shirt.

Momentary shock. Blistering fury.

It could have been me.

.

A relaxing walk after dinner to unwind,

A silent song of the crickets escorting her,

Yet two more limbs preyed on her footsteps.

Engulfing panic. Anguished prayers.

It could have been me.

.

A social visit full of happy celebrations,

A volley of laughs and drinks kept revolving,

Yet a once fatherly pat became a groping touch.

Sickening grief. Perpetual distrust.

It could have been me.

.

A daunting desk held her dreams together,

A review that threatened to drown it all down,

Yet roving eyes at her cleavage made a proposal.

Shrinking confidence. Appalling disgust.

It could have been me.

.

A weekend getaway promising delights,

A cabin in the woods offering warm solace.

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