I’m spoken to about it as thought it’s gentle, as though it’s a secret. As though it’s something that can barely be spoken into atmosphere, as if I can’t possibly know anything about such a forbidden act. I may portray a certain sense of innocence. I may walk as though I know nothing, as though I haven’t experienced anything.
You look up at me in that group of people, as I throw my arms around you. It is as though I have committed a sin, that by just a simple touch they all know what we’ve done. What you’ve done.
I will admit, it wasn’t hard to lure you in. It was at a party. Music blasting, people dancing, people getting drunk and high off of god knows what. I pulled you into me on the dance floor. You seeming intrigued that I even cared to pay you any attention. No one was there that you knew, you clearly were alone.
I pulled you into a back room, and that was when it all began. Your skin felt like ice against mine, I traced my fingers down your spine as I went lower. Your moans in my ear were like nothing else, like you’d never experienced this. And this was how I knew, you were but a straight girl in the midst of a steamy session you hadn’t been prepared for.
This excited me even more. I felt the fear in you. The interest. I didn’t know you then. I had never even seen you before. When we left that room, and I saw you times after, you acted as though I would tell anyone you were with of what had happened. Of what was continuing.
I knew when it changed from a lustful no meaning hookup. It was that night when I had taken you home. You were on my floor, looking at me. You took my face in your hands and instead of the usual kissed me softly, lingeringly, as though you were saying something to me without words. I knew then where the trouble was.
You and your friends were the sheltered part of the world, and me I was a corrupt sinner. Bringing me around was like bringing Halloween decorations to a Christmas party. It didn’t stop me from parading around as your lover. But what was different, I didn’t feel for you what you felt for me. It was fun and exciting, but you weren’t for me. I wasn’t looking for an inexperienced straight girl. Someone who was afraid to even have me around.
But it was months later. That I realized my true mistake. When I saw you with some guy, on the dance floor as though nothing had ever happened with us. To see you throw your head back as he ran his hands down your body. At that moment tears fell down my face.
Our affair may have been short lived, and I was wrong for letting you go, but nothing hurt worse then seeing him touch you like I once did. Knowing I never would again.
I had to tell you repeatedly not to fuss, just to let me touch you. To just relax. But the concept of sin didn’t excite you. It scared you. I scared you. My comfort in danger. I couldn’t truly make you feel anything other than fear. Until there were feelings involved on your part and I was then the one afraid.
You were the one with the clear reputation, when mine was clouded with dirt. I was your bad girl getaway, and he was the one you could openly love. You never would’ve done that with me. It would’ve had to all been in secret, in back rooms, in my house, in silence.
But me, I am loud. I don’t hide thunder where it is. I never would’ve wanted to hide this.
But you chose the pure side. The side with no repercussions.
And left me feeling as though you had taken a part of me with you. Nothing ever felt the same, no one I kissed ever had the same taste.
I allowed myself to get caught up in a world that never could’ve truly had me, though I would’ve given it my all.