veins.

I feel the whisper of your hands
on my skin,
and my blood
boils in my veins
that ran cold
under hands,
shaped with lust.

Innards curl
at the thought of
your scent,
your touch,
how you felt when
I was trapped in
the cage of
your arms,
pleading silently
for you to love me,
don't touch me.

And maybe if I'd learned
that I was loved,
I could have
prevented
everything
that I can't regret,
because the false
emotions
played on my soul
made me smile
as I shivered
under your touch,
mistaken lust.

Memories play
like movies
where the girl
screams in silent
horror.
But he tricks her in
his disguise
of romantic
hero.
Don't be a
hero.

Pray to your
God,
on your knees
on twisted sheets
where sin seeped
into your soul,
into the core
of the heart
beating frantically
in your chest.

You will
be clean
again.