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It was a Saturday night, a quarter to midnight when my pristine body had it’s first pair of hands explore it.

The way he kissed my neck down to my belly button, my red lipstick stained lips formed into an “o” shape as my fingers ran through his thick hair.

Don’t mistake something like this for love because when you’re a fifteen year old girl confused having sex with a boy who only wants intercourse isn’t love.

The only explanation is lust, cravings desires, whatever you call it. My favorite is greed because when your hands glided against my skin they felt ice cold; non caring. Uncomfortable and you’re still burning somewhere inside me.

Tell me you didn’t bother to know my middle name, but you wanted to hear me say yours when my back would arch and my toes curl.
Tell me you only wanted to hear that you made me feel good, but you didn’t want to know how I felt the next day.
Please tell me it’s lust. Say it twelve times. Scream it in my face! WAKE ME UP DAMNIT!!
Tell me what I want to hear not this “I love you” bullshit my heart is not for rent.

Admit to me that the night you climbed out of my window at 1 AM you took more than my virginity, you took my innocence.

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- Tell me (late night writings i found in my journal missthelips-thatmademe-forget)

(Source: missthelips-thatmademe-forget, via sublimedreamsofcolor)