They were gentle hands where they weren’t supposed to be

He lacked decency and I placed hope on misconstructed confusion.

Time was molasses, and I have a sweet tooth when he could care less.

I did not sign up for this, but then again I am a woman, so he thought I did.

It’s hard to be firm when you carry around broken glass instead of a heart 

but that itself makes it a necessity.

He sings; trust me, trust me, trust me.

I stumble, I don’t even know you, 

He plays, he jokes, he smiles

but he pushes; you know me enough. 

I don’t even know what happened, honestly. 

A new impression. This time, nobody’s laughing. 

The only recognition of the whole exchange was found in my pulse after, which fluttered like it was trapped and it needed to get out, needed to be gone. The monster inside me shook. Waves of anxiety only kept at bay with a help of a friend. 

Boundaries, i look up the definition when I leave.

I came home trying to forget, and almost succeeding. something inside of me feels compromised. 

It’s unsettling and i refuse to believe that people go through this kind of vulgar handshake every single day.

The truth is.. women do. 

I’m lucky he thought of asking somewhere in between.

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