Afraid

Poem
Poem
They wouldn't like her short plaids
tied with ribbons pink.
She was sure of it.
Once aunts, uncles and friends
touched her skin, they walked
away for always.
Never coming back because
she was like barbecue
without the hot, red sauce.
No taste.
She couldn't chance stepping
on to their blue and white porch. 
Barbara and Tony and Will would
run in the house.
Close the blinds.
Push the old grey sofa against
the door.
Then, look out the venetian blinds.
To make sure she left without
a backward glance.

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