In the light.

On the day after, when we tried again, he kissed me like he had never kissed before, and we laid together and it was good.

And on the day after the sun came up and glared its relentless light on the splinters that had surfaced in that interminable darkness. Damage had been done and in the fresh light of morning it would not be denied. 

Small, nearly imperceptible pock marks, scratches, and dents. Bruises and tender flesh. Ache. 

One step forward. Two back. And so goes the dance.