I stumble upon a photograph of you and me
You’re younger than I can recollect, and I am barely three
Your arms are around my brother, and around me
How deftly you hold us both, and how sweetly my brother smiles!
But why does my face freeze like I’ve been caught by surprise,
As if I was submerged in ice cold water?
Why do my eyes, which shone with such a childish happiness
Suddenly seem dull and sucked of reasons to smile?
Had it already started by then?
I don’t remember, I can’t remember
When, where, why, what I felt, why you did it
All I can see are your hands finding their way
Beneath, under, down, below
All I have are frustrating fragments of doors closing
And recurrent dreams of hands roving.
Now you see me, you smile.
I wonder, do my eyes still lose its glow
And my smile choke short
When I reply to your questions,
When I play the part of the perfect girl child?
I wonder why your hands couldn’t stop moving
Why they found rest
Only in places no one else visited.
I don’t know how I’ll feel the next time I see you
Now that I have realized
What happened behind those doors
When my mind was too young to form into memory
All that you did to me.
Will I be angry? Will I cry?
Or will I just feel tired,
So tired that all I want to do
Is curl up and sleep,
Like I did after those long afternoons
When I was three?