Years ago I let you in
when no one else could reach me.
I’d become numb to swear words,
To raised voices and fighting.
I was searching for meaning, for reason,
For a place in this world to feel again like I was living.
So I let you in-
I needed someone to see me.
The exchange was simple.
All it took was a kiss or two
in your older friends bathroom,
And in return I got my fix-
Cuddling and innocence. Validation.
Then it started with my shirt, a simple thing,
then bra,
then pants,
But when it came to my underwear I remember pleading,
No, just not this one, not this last thing,
The last thin veil keeping you from seeing all of me.
But the challenge was too intriguing,
And my desire to be accepted was crushing.
So when you overtook me I just closed my eyes
As hard as I could
Let you kiss me and pretended it didn’t bother me.
When you held me on the couch afterward I remember whispering
“I love you”
But I knew it wasn’t true.
You didn’t respond. Pretended to be sleeping.
And here I am years later,
Still wondering if this is the reason
I have trouble trusting.