Cold

“Your hands held my hips. You pulled me closer. I asked you to stop. You looked at me in a way... nobody had looked at me before. You forced a kiss on my lips. I let you kiss me. You paused. I moved aside slowly, so you wouldn’t notice. I moved with fear that you would hold me down and not let go. I moved with fear that you would hurt me. Like the bruises from the times, we were ‘just being playful.’ You told me to come back. I walked away before I turned around and looked at you. I saw your broken eyes, filled with empty desire, lust, loneliness. And your hands... they were steady.”​

This poem is about: 
Me
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