I don't need to ask, I observe
you say,
and I
still reeling from the steel
in your gaze,
brace for the blow.

You've seen, now
my secrets
shame and shouting, spoiled
child I was
and might still be
beneath the muscle.

A father never
home, a woman
paid to care
framed photos of happy lies
and fire
lurking like cobwebs in the corners.

A big house you say,
and food, too much. You are-
I wait
-an orphan
the last one left
unloved.
So sad.

The words are wrong
and yet
this dream,
less empty with you in it
may prove them true
after all.