I’m prancing around like a baby deer in a flower filled meadow.
But this meadow is in your room, made of foam and wire spring.
My doe eyes filled with innocence look down at you while you lay.
You stalk me like a hunter. Your finger on your trigger.
“It’s okay though,” you say, “we’re just playing.”
You aim and shoot your bullet lies, striking my naive mind.
The gunpowder seeps into my brain, blackening each new thought.
You finish and put your gun away.
I don’t understand what happened, but you assure me everything is fine.
But, “don’t forget,” you tell me.
“This stays between the hunter and the deer.”