Remember

I'm looking back on my childhood,
Back at my blurred memories
And I focus on one in particular,
One that is slowly starting to cease:
I am four, maybe five,
And I am waking from my sleep.
I slowly crawl out of my bed
And try not to make a peep.
As I tip toe down the hallway
And pass by His lair,
I hear Him say,
"Come snuggle with me,"
To my dreadful despair.
Trying to talk my way out of it,
I say, "But I don't want to,"
But by the look on His face,
I know I'm gonna have to.
So I shuffle to His bed
And crawl disgustedly under the covers.
As He binds me tight
With His strong, imprisoning arms,
His booze-hinted breath
Reminds me
To let my consciousness hover
For my 5 year old self
Knows what comes next
But my 14 year old self
Only knows the effects:
My heart has been hardened
With frozen distrust
And my body flinches
Every time it is touched.
I try hard to remember
What happened that morning
But something keeps blocking me
And it feels like a warning.
Though I have nothing to be warned about
For He is no longer in my life
So I wonder why remembering
Is such a strife.
I want to press onward
In my probing of my memory
But I am too tired from the effort
So maybe it'll all come back to me.
Maybe, just maybe.