I was 4 and you 4 + 3.
Down in the basement you brought me to the washing machines.
Whish. Whish. A kiss. Kissing cousins.
Suddenly, clothes were off. I showed you mine and vice versa.
Funny what you’ll find during hide and seek.
On a pile of broken Barbie’s you pushed me down, told me not to speak.
20 years later, my silence deafens.