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Feb 2016
You thumb my jeans.
I say ok.
Okay?
Don't look at me like that.
Don't look at me at all.
Your eyes dry my skin.
My lips crack and bleed.
I swallow my spit, a lump in my throat.
I shake too hard for it to reach my stomach.
I am going to *****.
I am not sorry.
You continue
despite my sick on your skin
I only said ok
So that later I don't feel bad and taken
I still feel bad and taken.
Kristine
Written by
Kristine  Chicago, IL
(Chicago, IL)   
506
   mark cleavenger
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