girlhood

you're sixteen

you're sixteen and you're wearing a shirt your mom never noticed was that tight.

you're sixteen and nothing matters.

nothing but your first push-up bra and that boy in your seventh hour who swears he would never hurt you, he loves you.

it's only noon and you're a grown woman.

it's midnight, you're sixteen, laying in bed.

you're laying in bed and you can't sleep.

the vision of you in that shirt turns your stomach because he was looking at your chest and you are worried.

he was looking at your chest.

you're angry. what happened to being a little girl?

it's midnight and you're sobbing because you're sixteen and you hate that damn bra and you miss playing with barbies and you miss your grandpa.

he did hurt you. he hurt you so bad but it's ok to admit it.

it's midnight and your eyes hurt, everything hurts.

but you're still sixteen.

a/n: yeah so. i pray to god that he doesn't still snoop on my blog. i've needed to get this out. girls, you don't owe him anything. never get it in your head that you owe him anything.