Why do I still miss you?
I miss the way you talked to me so sweet
Told me that I was so pretty,
The way I o p e n e d my legs for you.
I knew it was wrong.
It felt so wrong.
But I was so lonely, and something in my ****** up mind said it was right.
And so, I came back.
And when I couldn't, I turned to others, tried to replicate that feeling.
And now I can't even do that.
I feel disgusting for what I did.
They say, I was only 10, I didn't know any better.
But I did. I know I did.
And I feel guilty for painting myself as the victim.
I mean, he didn't force me,
He didn't split me open.
He never even touched me.
He just turned me into a puppet
and
had me do it myself
with
a camera in front.
...
I still miss you,
No, crave for you.
For those words that
dripped sweet like
the slick between
thighs
my
eyes
your
****.
Why do I still miss you?
Why do I still miss him?
Why do I feel disgusting for the actions of that disgusting man?