I remember the color of a washing machine
That shielded me from the hands, but not the words
Of a monster.
I remember thousands of times I was told
Nobody wanted me
And how lucky I should feel
To be brought up with those who tried to care for me.
I remember being hit over the head
With a baseball bat
From a man that to this day still wishes
I wasn’t breathing.
I remember the first time I thought I was in love
And how it felt
To watch him marry someone else.
I remember my first job
And walking away from it
You ask me if I remember you
And I do
Just like I remember everything else.