Memories

I knew it was wrong.

Even from a young age.

There was nothing okay with hiding

In a closet with a grown woman.

I could see her family in between

The crack of the door as her hands

Explored my body. She was giving me

The attention I desired from my

Working parents. Maybe not the attention

I was hoping for, but she silenced me

And made me feel like no one else

Mattered. Like I was her own little secret.

I never told anyone she touched me until I was 12 years old. She sexually assaulted

Me as a child. My own aunt.

I remember.