crash

She was exposed...
Like the back side of a breach baby mid-day in Madagascar.
Her face was plastered like one that had been molded from an almost presumptively motionless doe staring down a headlight's flame...
More submissive than fearful,
She faced her destiny with sweaty palms and mixed feelings.
This was awakening.
The act of being immersed into the blessing that is him...
Was birth of a conscious kind...
She sits at the fork where complacency and happiness kiss goodbye...
And braces for impact.