Asymptomatic

 At least
 my father didn't hit us.

 I'm lucky
 I get to count the number of times
 men touched me against my will
 on the fingers of one hand.

 I'm reasonably sure
 the acid words and sour breath
 didn't leave any marks.

 At least
 I didn't catch the disease
 and at last
 I had somewhere else to go.

 At last
 I had to watch from a distance
 as the disease ate him, and admit
 I loved him.

 At the close
 I will be left to bury
 all these murderers.