Forced

You took away my all innocence, or at the very least, the last of it (I put the blame on you, it’s time for you to come clean).

“Guilty.”

It ruined any chances of me being with any boy, guy, or man because how I viewed them: I thought they would always be like you.

“You wore that mask so well.”

Abusive, manipulative, prying on girls far much younger than you — you seemed to have some kind of magnetic charm to attract so many and fuck each one.

“It’s those piercing, blue eyes. I swear.”

That night when you forcefully made your way between my legs, my saddened, worried face frightened you and made you stop. I didn’t want this — but you insisted and persisted. I wonder what number fuck I am in your bed, your sheets covered in false “I love you’s” and “I want you’s” and childish blood.

“I thought this would make you love me.”

Six years I let you torture me until I was numb and emotionless — taking you back each and every time thinking you’d be different. That you finally changed, that you would finally become my boyfriend instead of making me the girl behind closed doors and your own personal background noise.

“It’s okay.” “Don’t be sorry.”

But I never did make it that close. I wasn’t worth the time, the effort, because all I was to you was the side chick you went back to when time’s were hard and you needed a good friend fucking.

“No more, you monster.”

I was so young and so innocent and you took so much away from me. You never deserved my caring heart, my deep feelings and emotions, my loyal friendship, and most importantly what I thought was love.

“Forced.”