I've been debating
on whether or not
I should speak up
on why these words scare me.

I've been thinking
on whether or not
I should post this, express myself,
but wouldn't I sound like an attention seeker?

I've been wanting
to tell someone,
not when I'm inebriated,
but when I'm very much ready to tell what happened.

When we used to be friends,
"used to be",
you reassured me that my grades will be fine.
I didn't know you meant it that way.

You messaged me, saying
to "come over;
I can teach you all the subjects;
just come over."

But instead of teaching me subjects,
you taught me how to fear;
you taught me all the ways a man
could violate someone without conscience.

you taught me
that you can use people emotionally,
to be able to use them for your own good,
and make them feel like they still owe you.

you taught me
how to hate myself even more,
how to pretend everything was fine
and then mess me up.

you told me
to come over
again, and again, and again,
and I had to keep on lying that I can't; but you wouldn't stop.

you touched me;
every single time you make contact with my skin,
my insides feel sick, and my mind
goes into overdrive; I keep blaming myself.

you made me feel like I was okay;
you told me whatever ****** thing I did was fine;
I was truly afraid, but you;
you told everyone I sent you nudes when I didn't.

you made me feel okay.
for once, you were the only person who made me feel
like the world was fine, and I forgave you.
countless of times, I forgave you,
because I'm still hoping there's still good in you.

but you made me feel
that all the ****** things in the world
were okay; but you embarrassed me.
you made me feel hate for myself.

you made me feel disgusting.
when you tried to force me to come over,
when you kept asking me over, and over, and over again,
you scared me.

i wish i hadn't agreed in the first place.
i wish i weren't stupid enough to actually think
you had the best intentions;
you paraded ****** acts as if it were a prize.

even the slightest touch, you scare me.
you try to grab my ID and unclasp it from my lanyard,
you pass by me from behind,
and I get scared when I can feel your arm brush against my chest and bottom.

you're doing this on purpose, but I have no evidence.