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| The Tower by Rebeca Bashly |
Bow and bow again. No end to the bowing. No end to not looking straight in his eyes. No soul. No tears. Just bow. Bow and scream inside, because you're alive. You're alive and he thinks you're dead. He thinks you have lost your way. He thinks you are nobody. You belong to him. You're dead. So, bow. Stretch your arms defiantly and bow, again and again until he understands. It's no longer submission. It's preparation. It's knowing. It's getting ready to jump and run. And when he finally figures it all out, yes... by then, you'll be long gone.
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