It’s pathetic. You don’t have to tell me. I deleted you from my phone the other day when I realized you didn’t want me. But I regretted it immediately. I wanted to maul over the texts you sent. I want to pine over you. But I memorized your number anyway. You know, just in case you change your mind. I don’t want to forget you.
Why did you make me believe I was beautiful? Why did your touch feel honest and extraordinary? It felt like you saved me from drowning. It felt like heaven and earth moved when you were close to me – the way you pulled my hair away, and grabbed my face; your fingers slowly caressing my legs. Why did you even do that? Why did you give me false hope?
I didn’t even want to kiss you that first time. You grabbed my face like you…
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