when i think back to the first punch the nail and sting and two-week bruise i don't think about the pain or the sound of your fist against my ribs i think of your face as you swung your arm twisted and red but that was only layer one layer two was remembering when you coached me in softball layer three was my nine-year-old embrace layer four was whispering, "she's your little girl." layer five was your confusion as i grew up and became quiet layer six hated yourself in that moment as well as layers seven and eight layer nine was your anger again, which caused you to hit but layer ten was your apology i forgave you one thousand and sixty eight times will you ever forgive yourself?