They say every 7 years
Your skin regenerates.
So why do I still feel the remnants of his touch?
It doesn’t matter how long it’s been,
Every day,
Every hour,
Every second,
I feel his touch. 
I remember the shame,
The pain,
The blame…
No time goes by when I don’t suffer the consequences of his sick sins.
Why me?
I lost something so early,
And I didn’t even know I could say NO!
Or to even speak to someone,
I was forever that scared little girl with no voice.
But not anymore.
That girl grew up.
Yes I still feel his fingertips on my skin,
His breath hovering over me,
I feel the phantom pains of his abuse. 
But I’ve been afraid for too long.
No more.
My voice matters.
I can’t change what he did to me,
For years,
My whole childhood gone,
Scared into silence.
I didn’t know I had worth,
But I do.
So it’s time to heal.
If only it were as easy to do as it is to say. 
It doesn't mean I wont still feel the ghost of him surrounding me,
Or have the constant reminder.
But maybe,
Just maybe,
It’ll get better.
I’m learning my worth,
I’m learning my strength,
I’m learning how to use my voice.
Nothing can take that away,
Not anymore.
I refuse to live in fear forever.
So I’ll learn how to live my life the way I wish and always dreamed I could.
I’ll find the small joys in life again.
Because what he did doesn’t define who I am.
I’m not a scared child with no idea how to use my voice or the power behind it. 
So now I’ll scream from the rooftops,
I’m a brave, strong person.
I’m a survivor. 
I’m alive,
And I’ll learn how to be ok.