your hands shake when he touches you,
his fingers tracing from your shoulder to your hip.
it's not suppose to be this way. you're not supposed
to be three feet tall and six years old when he strips
you of your innocence, your childhood removed,
layer by layer. you're not suppose to sit in the shower
for two hours later, scrubbing at your raw skin,
trying to forget about where his hands touched you,
trying to forget how dirty you feel. you're not suppose
to withdraw from your family and friends because
you don't know how to look them in the eye without
revealing your secret, he said not to tell anyone and
you must obey. you're not suppose to experience this,
you're not suppose to feel unsafe in your own home,
but you do.
