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She refuses to believe all the lies. Refuses to believe that he isn't kissing another girl with the same passion he kissed her with. She refuses to remember the way he whispered sweetly into her ear, "I love the way you say my name." She refuses to touch the softness of her palm, trying to see if the tingle of his touch has remained. This young girl refuses to call any of her friends back, because she knows all they'll do is doubt that she still loves him. But what does she have left to doubt? She loved him. She gave herself to him. He was her many 'firsts.' She has nothing to doubt, except for lies. And she refuses to listen to those lies once more. She refuses to actually look him in the eye as he walks toward her one grey morning. She refuses to leer away in disgust, refuses to scream at him to leave. But as he tilts her quivering chin towards his face and says, "Once you've had me, you'll always want more," she knows she refuses to push him away. Because she'll always want him. This is nothing but a repeat. And she refuses to speak the words aloud, letting the rest of the world to hear.
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Fact: I find that I have acquired a taste for hating young women who either a) let the boyfriend of their dreams stand in the way of their dreams b) Won't just wake the f*ck up and dump their douchebag of a boyfriend if they have the type and c) Just won't think of all the cons. You can't have the pros without the cons.
Fact: I am a victim of c).
Fact: This was originally supposed to be a poem, but then it kind of turned into something. Just something.
Fact: I am a victim of c).
Fact: This was originally supposed to be a poem, but then it kind of turned into something. Just something.
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amazing. really. (: