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most days that i think about her, the good is replaced with the bad. and... it's hard to move past that, knowing what was done to me. knowing how i was thrown away because i bore my fangs.. i lied about my last post being... well, my last. enjoy.
Most days it feels as though you scraped me clean, took a spoon and hollowed out everything I am.
I know I opened myself to you, and gave you the spoon, I just didn’t know I could say no.
If I thought I’d had the choice, I would’ve much rather you held my hands and complimented my sweater.
I knew what would happen if I pushed you away, so I’d frown and hesitate, but in the end I always let you have what you wanted.
Did you ignore the way my body trembled?
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