Melted

I was 14.
Thoughts built in reverse.
Rewinding, rewinding, I finally see it chronologically.
7 year old body, 9 year old body, 11 year old body, I have only my body to show.
Only my body to display.
Escorting labeled "do what you gotta do".
Light hearted smile made it feel like wanna instead of gotta.
It happens.

"He is still a part of me, in the residue of his sweat on my thighs. His saliva on my thighs. His warmth on my thighs.
I am dirty.
When mother grazes my head with her hand and I wince. I'm scared that her fingers will feel too much like his. Scared I would melt into the feeling.
I am dirty.
Whenever he glides his fingers on my torso, I want to make his warmth my refuge.
I am dirty.
I crave his tune.
I am dirty.
I love him, but I am dirty."