Another tally on my scoreboard.
It was only supposed to have one,
But now, there were four diagonal lines.
Twenty x "now what have you done?"
We pretended there was a chance,
But every mark after III was a pawn.
A new player in my game of control,
Facing guns that were already drawn.
Sharp breath, arched back, closed eyes.
Each time, I felt something new.
His scent, his breath, his voice...
But none of it was what I felt with you.
Number 8 had tattoos and baby blues.
A first for both, but so much more.
He was 1 for the first date, first time.
...Does that make me a *****?
I'll always hate the number 10
Because I woke up to him touching me.
He promised it was "just cuddling."
I still got insomnia out of necessity.
"Look in my eyes, don't say a word."
Number 18, passion, attraction, allure.
My biggest secret was that I loved him.
And...he was my teacher.
Secrets and embarrassments.
More reasons for regret.
Let me show you the truest part of me:
Ruined by men, both evil and passionate.
