The memories haunt my every thought.
The sound of Daddy’s footsteps creaking every night.
The sound of the doorknob turning slowly.
The sound of Daddy’s voice.
And I grew jealous that Daddy rather,
spend time with her than with me.
But something told me that
I dare not say anything.

I was 6 and you were 7.
You were my sister, my very best friend.
But with the noises and cries I heard late at night,
you were slipping away from me.
But I dare not say anything.

I grew to hate you as Daddy
loved you more than me.
He held your hand and kissed your head
but he never touched me.
But I dare not say anything.

As years went on I grew terrified
that Daddy would come to me.
Because I knew something was bad.
And I didn’t wish he would touch me anymore.
But I dare not say anything.

You were 11 and I was 10.
And one day it stopped.
I never heard Daddy in your room again.
I never heard anything ever again.
No goodbye’s or hello’s or any words at all.
Like silence could hold the secret that
they both knew was true.
But I dare not say anything.

You grew too thin, too pale, too weak.
You disappeared for days at a time  
with too many boys much too old.
You did too many drugs that no one knew.
But at night I could still hear you crying
alone in the same room.
But I dare not say anything.

But now I realize
why you did
what you did.  
I just didn’t understand.
but now I do.
And I am so so sorry.

                                                               ­                   But I dare not say anything.
  
(j.j)