Warm, sweating hands
Stumbling over my body.
A deep, gruff voice
Ringing in my ears.
I know he is dominant,
Yet can't feel weight nor power,
Only feel his hands, searching.
I can feel each finger,
Slyly reach to touch'�
Even as he goes
His presence still remains.
I re-visit the power of his lies.
His promises of love and nurture.
Now lying here alone
No-one to care, to see, to stop,
I tell myself, 'He's no father of mine.'�

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