He told me.
It took him years to, but he finally did –
and suddenly a lot of things made sense.
The way he’d step across the road with no regard for traffic
just to avoid men with shaven heads.
The way he’d flinch if a man brushed past him in a crowded bar.
The way, even all those years later, he’d rather bite his lip until it bled
than let the terror of a pat on the back make him cry.
The way he’d only sleep with his jeans on….
and his shoes by the bed ready to pull on and run.
He told me what you did – when he was your “special little girl”
About the Author
“I’ve been writing since I could form a thought and hold a pen. Ink is my oxygen. Now, pushing forty- is the first time I’ve had the self belief to share. My life has been one of hospitals and carnivals- but I’m still here.” – Siobhan Fouldes
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