She flinches when anyone gets that close.
She crawls down to her knees and wraps herself in isolation.
She hears the echos of his voice but hesitates to answer.
There is one door she will never enter.
Content living in the valley.
He approaches as if on strings; fast, floppy movements he approaches with the grace of a frog.
From miles away she still frightens easily.
With a voice like a hissing cat she answers his calls.
Building walls around every entry point she has.
Her leg shoots out of the darkness on feminine stilts.
As her hips lead the way from the shadows his jaw slags.
Magnetic eyes to every curve she has to offer, where did passiveness elude her?
The magnets draw them close, but distance is all she knows.
His words roll, but she hears the same as always.
Tiresome they seem, but familiarity has the weight that snaps her defenses.
How funny, she thinks
that so much times goes to build walls and so little effort to destroy them.
Now faster they fall to that place where everything is simple ans you never feel threatened, just vulnerable and eager.
She wanted so bad to play it safe and reserve her all.
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