Time Machine

Time Machine

Unlatch the door,
I am shocked by the noise.
I'm not scared yet. 
It was only hide and seek.
One slip of his hand,
a drop of my strap.
I am whistling, through my teeth,
through the gaps in your hands.
But we were only playing hide and seek.
It's cold, they're unvoluntarily hard.
I'm kicking, my legs are too short to touch the ground.
I'm terrified now. 
I try to bite the palm of your hand, the gushing blood would suffice.
You're strong.
A scream, beneath the muffling of your pale skin. 
You have flaccid, dark brown hair that covers your face,
in later years it would be that faceless shadow I dream of.
My poor dress.
The little white dress that won't come away from it's fixture,
the little poppies dancing with new fresh crimson,
So little.
Such a game of...please don't seek me out.
A time machine.
I need a time machine.
I'll hide somewhere different.
I'm not screaming now, not that I could through your manly palm,
I'm whimpering, shaking, sniffling, staring
out the window, the ivy is growing over the glass,
the bees are playing with a purple flower -I'm not sure of it's type.
I wonder if thirty of them came and danced on my face, stinging me once each,
if it would hurt the way this does.
I wish I'd hidden better.
You pull up those dirt-covered, child-played in jeans,
you dress me too.
We used to bathe together years prior.
I'm quiet and you leave me. Don't leave me alone here.
'Bring me a dress.'
Light blue satin.
I never swallowed,
I shook, staring, sniffling
shaking out that pretty blonde hair,
falls in clumps at my feet.
The dress, probably still hidden behind the freezer,
like the memories I daren't ever truly face.
Mum dropped you in a Christmas card this year,
I'd like a time machine for Christmas,
I'll hide somewhere different.
I'll never be found.