That gun on my Mother’s head still haunts me at night. That time I locked myself in my room just because my Dad was too drunk still make me wake up sweating.
I screamed and screamed once they feast
on the flesh of my feet
I know I loved you
Or perhaps I have.
You said you’d buy me a flower shop
And that I’ll never be lonely.
I put on my birthday suit and you let me scratch your back just right; just right so she won’t notice, so she will let you touch her with your callused hands just the same as the way you touched me.
I adored you and your innocence.
My guilty pleasure.
My accidental lover.
Cece is what they call me,
for I am a child of despair and of sorrow.