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Jul 8
i told him my head was heavy
i couldn’t think, my legs shook
i told him i wasn’t ready
his lips on mine, i couldn’t look
his hands roamed under my shirt
he bit my lower lip, pain radiated
i was as meaningless as dirt
his hands on my thighs, his hunger still not satiated
he tried to slip his fingers into my pants
i pulled away, pushing him into the seat
and moving over i said “i can’t”
“why?” he asked, “i’m feeling the heat.”
i layed quietly, hands shaking still
he came over, climbing on top of me
“i’m going to leave,” i said, “i will”
“why?” he wondered, “just wait and see.”
i tried to sit up, but his weight was too much
he slipped his hand down again, this time over the fabric
i set my hands down as a crutch, tried to push myself up
my stomach turning, my whole body sick
i tried to fight it and yet i couldn’t
what if he decided he no longer liked me?
i wanted to leave but felt as though i shouldn’t
what if he yelled or hit me?
i was too afraid to go, for what if i lost his approval? why did i need it though? if all he wanted was removal?
of my pants and my shirt and maybe my soul too?
why not just throw that in there, to be sure i was through?
wrote  this   some.  time ago
mila splawska
Written by
mila splawska  15/F/probably my room
(15/F/probably my room)   
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