When I was around ten or eleven
A man my mother knew
Showed up at our door, presumably
To pick my brother up
He said things
I was uncomfortable but I didn't know why
He gave me a necklace
Told me I was pretty
He touched my face and I remember
Feeling like my stomach was crawling
Out of my body
I didn't know how to respond
I think I cried silently
I'm sure I was accused
Of being too emotional
Of taking things the wrong way
He was just being friendly
I couldn't look at that necklace without revulsion
But I kept it
Because he was just being nice
