By Irene Mason
You touched me with your dirty hands.
You left filthy marks on me.
I was only a girl.
My parents found out
And kicked you out on your ass.
Your excuse: I was drunk and high.
That doesn’t tame my anxiety
Or help me move on.
I had problems because of you.
I was afraid thanks to you.
I was tainted and ashamed.
You seemed to change your ways.
You were allowed to visit again,
But it was so awkward.
I tried to forget and bury the past.
I saw you as a different person.
That’s the only way I could tolerate you.
You weren’t him. You were another.
I let you back in.
Why didn’t you apologize?
I worried about your girls. Were they safe?
Had you really changed?
I could ruin your life by exposing the secret,
But my misery does not need company.
I have let it go (somewhat).
It’s still with me,
But I’m not out for blood.
I guess you love me (somewhat).
Will you apologize on your death bed?
Believe it or not, you are already forgiven.
I can’t bear to carry that weight around my whole life.
I did it for me.