I remember.

It started when I was five years old.

Young, but never got to be.

Not five years old, not six, not seven, eight or nine.

TEN years to hold such a secret,

until I could no longer keep it.

Behind these eyes PTSD lies.

The little girl inside me, she cries. 

Now nineteen, beautiful on the outside, BROKEN on the inside. 

I cry.

Unable to remain stable with any guy.

Although young, I knew all along something was wrong. 

Totally completely one-hundred percent wrong.

The time he put me in a thong. 13 wearing a G-string?

Just imagine what he’s done to me, not only physically.

Ten years of innocence flushed from that first touch.

I remember.

I remember.

I was young, but I remember.

Images continue to flashback.

over and over

REPEATEDLY.

I remember.

I close my eyes, go away.

I open them, and tell myself I am safe.