and i continue to believe it was my fault

413 42 5
                                    

"please, don't touch me."

maybe i was too nice

maybe it was because i added the "please"

maybe it was because i did not sound strong enough

"please, let go of my arms."

there were two bruises on each of my arms for a week afterwards

where your thumbs and fingers held on to my skin,

stinging, burning into my flesh like acid

 "let me go."

maybe i shouldn't have been drinking

maybe i shouldn't have been flirting with you

maybe i should have gone home from the start

"please, stop."

that was when i started crying with big, clumsy tears that

dribbled down my cheeks, mucus bubbling from under my nostrils.

i shut my eyes and waited for you to leave

"please, let go of me. please."

you finally let go of my wrists, 

delicate hands fluttering to your side.

you left me alone in the room.

"please."

{ and i continue to believe it was my fault ; m. h. }

unromanticWhere stories live. Discover now