the train running by the baseball field,
looking around in wonder at the great sound—
(does it count as **** if he was barely a man at sixteen?)

my first birthday, giggling senselessly
covered in blue cookie monster cake—
(does he remember it as vividly and as vaguely as i do?)

my brother smiling and wrestling with me,
us both the perfect picture of idyllic youth—
(would any of them believe me if i told them how my cousin lured me into the bathroom, the perfect picture of youth still innocent—)

in the cul-de-sac, learning how to ride my bike, pink and sparkly with purple tassels hanging from the handlebars—
(does it torment him?)

falling asleep in the backseat, surrounded by my family, amber streetlight lulling me into a peaceful child’s slumber—
(does he get off to it?)

holding my breath as my brothers, laughing, dunked me underwater—
(he has a son now, will he ruin him like he ruined me?)

lungs screaming as i’m held underwater by my older brothers—
(does he realize how he’s ruined me?)

my child-like amazement at the world—
(molested by an almost-man, a boy who still has me utterly powerless in his grasp)

(does he get off to it?)
(does it ruin him?)—
(i can’t breathe)

i am held down in her grasp and i can’t breathe, knowing that my special moment saved for someone i love has been stolen from me by the almost-man, i can’t breathe because i know i’ll never have it back—
(i can’t breathe—)

my mother scolding my brothers and them releasing me, my tender face breaking the surface of the water and gasping down the air that had been stolen from me.
(and yet i am ever-choking on a phantom pain from six-years-old)