Don’t play the victim.
You took my virginity
on that chilly summer night
in our neighbor’s yard.
You were there,
completely sober,
coherent,
and I was there, too,
drunk on stolen wine
and barely able to walk
without assistance.
You told me
to lie down.
I obeyed.
You told me
to take off my clothes.
I obeyed.
Although my memory is hazy,
I know that
it happened.
Don’t tell your friends
that I made the whole thing up,
that I’m some attention-seeking *****
who’s obsessed with you.
Believe me,
if I wanted attention that badly,
I’d get it another way.
You’re a sick, twisted *******,
and, to be honest,
I pity you.
If you can only get it
from drunk girls,
you must not be that good.