People ask,
Have you ever loved a man?
I answer no.
But a man sure loved me.
He started to love me when I was young enough to still believe in
Santa.
He loved me being at that age when I
believed that the moon followed me in a car.
The age of scented markers and training bras.
He loved me in the way a rat loved it's poison, or a prisoner their torture.
Wrongly.
And every so often
He showed me how much he loved me.
Behind locked doors with fiery, demanding hands.
Causing me to remember that I was asthmatic.
And when his skin burned me, I felt cold.
So when people ask,
Have you ever loved a man?
I answer no.
But a man sure loved me.