i can't sleep anymore.
it's funny how such a small thing will mess you up so bad.
i can't think about it without a sickness overcoming me
and i feel the sudden urge to throw up.
i feel like you've tainted my perception of romance with the
feel of your hand against my clothed skin.
your tongue in my mouth like an invasive creature that i
cannot cut out,
it's funny how you took my drunken cheek kiss and turned
it into something more.
it's funny how you thought that, in my state, it was fine to press
yourself against me and latch your lips to mine.
"it was just a kiss" they say.
but it was my first and the memory is barely there and it was
barely special. not at all how i'd imagined it.
i keep talking about it though.
mentioning it just to talk about it as if letting the words "i made
out with this guy" would bring back the memory.
would make it less sickening to try and think of what i want
to remember in order to forget.