Warning: child abuse

Memory,

Is when I lay my head at night;

Cold, wet, salty,

Like a corpse drowned

Silently at the dead of night.

Memory,

Is the corpse of

Six year old me.

Memory,

Is the remnants of my childhood innocence,

So mercilessly shattered,

And so furtively ushered:

“Don’t tell anyone.”

So I swallow the shards,

Heart dripping with blood.

Memory,

Is what I want to forget,

But ...

He’s the gentle breeze of Appalachian mornings, blushing with a glimmer of the once burning sunrise....