The Memory I Carry

The memory I carry,

Are of his hands.

Sweet you say,

Thinking of hugs,

You’re wrong,

It’s the slaps I felt

When I said something wrong

It’s over though

No more hands to hurt you

You cry from happiness

It’s finally over

Think again

This time is different

That’s what I thought

Now it’s the smell I can’t stand to bear

And those hands again

Except on a different man

It wasn’t the slaps this time

But something else entirely

The caresses he thought were right

Were all too wrong to feel

It wouldn’t stop

Except now is different

That’s what I told myself

Nope, think again

Now it wasn’t a father figure

But someone of my own choice

It wasn’t just hands

But the voice and the smell

The words I had to hear

The feelings I had to bear

I hid it all

And escaped one last time

Now it is all over

No more hands, smell, or voice

No more abuse

Whether physical

Sexual

Or verbal

I survived.