bamboo memories

Hand in hand up the spiral staircase,
to where you would stroke my white-blonde hair

and tell me how sweet I was

and how much you wished

you could have a little girl like me.

Then to explain where and how you found me
to my distracted, bickering parents who,
caught up in their own melodrama, 

just sighed in relief to have me back home.

Did they thank you, rorikon?

And all these years later, 

your features are missing from my memory,

along with the painful details of just what you did.
But I remember you.

Oh, I remember you.

In each romantic assumption I made,
and in each failure to protect myself,
your hand continued to touch me

and your reassuring smile corroded my soul.

My skin must have been transparent
because others saw you there in my bones
and snatched me up as their victim,
adding detail to the branding you carved.

With every longing to find THE ONE
who would love me so absolutely,
your vile intentions continued
to burn me and keep me alone.

Late in life now, I still imagine you, rorikon.

But with other unfortunate angels to follow,
I’m sure you’ve forgotten me long since.
But I remember you.

Oh, I remember you.