Me, who cowered in a nearby corner watching as He slapped your cherub cheeks ordering you to say it wasn't so, that his brother didn't touch you there. Me, who tried to console you, searching relentlessly to find some facet of blame for myself. You slapped my hand away, when I only wished to give you my love, just a touch to let you know that I Believed You. It was true.
Some men lead lives of quiet desperation.