She hasn't let anyone in since the boy before you. The first one broke her heart; leaving it shattered in a million pieces. But she fixed herself.
Not entirely; but to a point where getting out of bed in the morning wasn't totally impossible. Where her bones didn't ache and her skin didn't burn.
Maybe you were consumed by you; too concerned with the fears and desires of your own self to recognize the fears and desires of others. Maybe you just didn't want to experience the past once over. But that's life.
Your touch is now etched into her pale skin and every man's touch after will feel like ice. She will shy away, for tears will brim her eyes; desperately wanting to feel the heat again. To feel air. To be able to breathe.
Because she hasn't been able to. No. Not since you.
She loves you. She always has. But you couldn't give a **** about her.