my rose colored glasses cannot censor the fear i feel in the presence of him. like a suspect, the lady-like lenses crack under pressure when his hand conveniently slips on a busy night. bustling, blinding, blending right into the blur are his hands guiding my anxieties and insecurities through the roof as he grants himself permission to lust my body the way no one has ever done before. and i feel the foriegn touch unwelcome on my adolescent hips. but still i stand with a padlock over my trembling lips.