I was four years old
Wearing a overalls and pigtails
Wide eyed and trusting
What did you see when you looked at me?
Did you somehow see a younger version of my mother?
Did my big girl undies look more like lingerie?
Did you ever feel guilty?
Did you think you wouldn’t get caught?
I am 22 now
And I learned monsters don’t live under the bed or in the closet
I learned they don’t have sharp teeth or claws
But that Doesn’t make me feel safer at night
I once asked you if you regretted it
And you pretended not to know what I was talking about
told every one and the courts I lied
I did not lie
And you served barley any jail time
I was always taught the truth would set you free
but im still serving mine
gave my body to strangers
took drugs and drank
just to get the feel of your hands off my body
this body has never felt like it belongs to me
feels like it belongs to a lover become stranger
So familiar
yet so foreign
I have become a ghost
of that trusting little girl
afraid of closed doors
and keeping secrets
afraid of older men with warm smiles
did you know
18 years later
i can still picture the room clear as day
I still know what sat on the counter
and the color of the bed sheets
they were forest green
i remember how blue your jeans were
and the copper of your belt buckle
these memories are so clear yet so distant
like im watching somebody elses life
did you know
how badly you would hurt me?
did you know how badly I would hurt me
just to free the poltergeists you left in my blood?
ive tried painting my skin with 18 shades of foundation
trying to artwork myself into a person your memory couldnt terrorize
and i am terrified
of being alone
because sometimes
sometimes
when im alone
i find myself less of a survivor
more of a victim
i find myself wondering
if the knives in my house would release more ghosts
i find myself wondering
if i am still whole
every now and then
I go to your facebook
and stare at your picture
like visiting a grave
the one where my childhood innocence is buried
under \"he is a good man\"
church goer, cancer survivor, good father
but i know the truth
I know what lives behind smiling eyes
I know what lives behind \"good man\"
I know
because I can\'t forget
cant forget that four year old
in pigtails and overalls
cant forget what its like
to be turned into a paper doll
and ripped inside out
from the soul