When Daddy sat on the edge of my brass bed 
with the lace and frills, 
the ruby red Kangol hat, that hid his soft sunken eyes 
Tilted, when he mouthed, 
reluctantly,
"Baby, would you remember your Daddy 
if you saw him on the streets?" 
Puzzled by the inquisition
 with sweat on my hands
 I nodded numbly. 

He smiled to hide the pain
 that he would no longer return. 
Watching his back 
as he slowly walked out the door,
I wanted to run 
and hold him 
around his neck, 
one more time. 

Fear held me tight 
in its arms 
and running is what I've done
 all my life, 
pricking lovers with unseen thorns,  
before I am pricked.

20 years later,  
I stare back at the reflection in the mirror
baring my nakedness and soul
wondering just how the ME
evolved into HE.