Wings 


She reminded him of a storm, he said.  Exciting and dangerous and gorgeous in all her shades of green and gray.
She reminded him of a cliff’s edge, he said. Enticing and rich with risk and a fall most fatal.
She wanted him to chase, to fall, to claim her as his own.
She waited, breath held, eyes wide, heart bare.
She must be kept out of reach, his little secret, hidden away he said, safely from the comfort of his favorite chair.
She smiled softly, her hands slipping at once from their shackles.

Goodbye, she said.

And with wings unfurling, I walked away.

cswhitlow

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