I was in love. Serious love.

But, you are the reason I loathe anyone who ambles into my life after you.
That I feel as if all men, or boys, are unworthy of my precious time
because they will all manage to use my body like soft tissue until its been crumpled too many times.
I thank you for the first day you sent me that message,
expressing interest in the pictures I’d posted,
and that you would love to “get to know me”,
but I wish I knew then how deep you wanted your knowledge to be.

I seriously started to care about how I looked when I went outside,
knowing your car would be parked in the drive
as you waited for me to walk down my crooked stairs.
I would get in the passenger seat and see Mama looking out the blinds.
I know she questioned this relationship but it never crossed my mind
that you would intentionally hurt me.
Every night you would tell me that you could hardly breathe when we were apart. That I made your heart skip beats whenever we held hands. That I shouldn’t listen to my Mama when she tells me to stay away.
Of course, because you reigned so powerful in my life
it was hard to refute anything you would say.
I wasn’t very confident, so i confided in you.

On Friday your red car wasn’t parked in the drive,
but simply stopped in the street with your flashers on.
I wondered why you were rushing,
why you couldn’t come speak to Mama before you whisked me away
in a vehicle that reeked of teenage boy, and weed.
I hated that car so much.
But in my skimpy skirt,
converse laced to the top, and shirt revealing all the midriff possible, I hopped in.
I was speaking to you when your right hand reached for my thigh instead of my left hand. I said no and you said yes, and I said no again.
But by then whatever I screamed was irrelevant
because you already had your lips on my face,
my skirt well below my waist,
and the car parked in your own driveway.
So I assumed I would be here for some time.

I said no, and you said yes.
You said yes, it would be fine.
I believed you.
So it happened so quickly, so meaningless, and I regret every single second of it.
But hopefully I’ve done my job as your women, your girlfriend rather.
I was hoping we would cuddle after.
That didn’t happen.
You drove so quickly back to my house and you didn’t park in the drive,
you stopped traffic on the street,
the opposite side, and I had to cross over.
No goodbye.
I thank you for taking advantage of me when I needed sympathy.
I know now that not everyone cares for me like Mama.

Running past her,
up the stairs, I knew she would question me about my date
so I yelled as I took my clothes off for the second time that day.
“How was the movie?”, “Ma, it was great,”
My bed instantly became safe.
I wrapped myself in my covers like a burrito and called for my sisters. They make me feel so special, and I forget about all evils when I’m in their company.
We started to laugh at our puppy who had gotten stuck under the laundry basket and instantly I became myself.
Mama called us down for tacos, the ones we have every other day, but I was beyond excited to sit among my family and eat.
Our conversation, so light and warm, reminded me of where my mind should truly be.
My body is my temple, my masterpiece. It isn’t yours and I’m sorry you have a part of me.

It’s a year later and I’m still trying not to love too hard. He has a new name and a new face and he parks in the driveway. He hasn't told me he loves me yet, and I’m perfectly content with that.