That feeling keeps coming back.
Every whiff, every memory.
Every panic, giving me an asthma attack.
Darks rooms and soft moans,
The hurt and hatred echoing back at me.
I keep the doors locked.
No one can know my dirty secrets.
If they knew they’d be shocked.
Even so, I’m still trying to figure it out.
Do I hate it or do I hate myself for it?
I begged for more time,
It disappeared too fast.
My arousal was a never ending chime.
Ringing in my ear till I went crazy.
I couldn’t control it and got addicted.
It was all a planned mistake,
An accident, really.
I got too caught up in the sexuality.
I think I’m now able to live freely.
Deep down, I still can’t forgive myself.
I could’ve been better than that.
I hate that it’s still in my head.
I wish I hadn’t wanted it.
I know what I said.
But, I’m the only one to blame.
My first sensual relationship.
I wanted the social part,
But all he wanted was me to strip.
I was too young though, too innocent.
But I loved him so I listened.
Every glimpse is a sin.
Sometimes I can feel his warm lips.
His cold fingers slowly brushing my skin.
Sometimes I feel his breath.
I scream at these thoughts to leave.
Those two months of blindness,
Are now like a trauma.
They horrify and scare me.
I caused so much drama.
It keeps me up at night.
By now I think it’ll never end.
Like I’ll never get to hear my real story.
Even his ringtone can wake me up.
I wish I could fix it with a “sorry”.
However, my mistake with die with me.