I guess I still don’t get it

In the end, wasn’t it worth it?

You said you wanted to hang out

I made the obvious conclusion.

 

I am sorry I hurt you, I guess

that much I know.

I thought your no’s

were a tease

and a possible please.

 

You liked it when I kissed you

And you giggled when I pulled away.

The Rohypnol in your glass on the tray,

Was a gift, to make it easier on you.

 

So when I finally grabbed your hair,

golden strands curled ’round my hand,

and forced you to your knees

I didn’t mean for the carpet

to rub so coarsely on your skin.

 

And I guess I’m sorry you cried

I didn’t know you’d never tried.

When you told me, I thought you were joking

After all, everyone does this type of thing.

 

I was a skyscraper standing over you

Your pulse raced beneath my fingertips

As I squeezed your wrists

and your salty tears mixed well

with the cum and sweat trail

 

scarred on your lips.

 

And maybe I held a little too tightly

for purple pearls curled lightly

Around your too-thin wrists, bones

with their flimsy fabric torn apart.

 

And maybe I shoved a little too hard

When I tried to force your lips apart

But the blood looked so pretty slippin’

past the ripped clothing of your shirt.

 

When you finally managed to stand,

should I have walked you to the door, hand in hand?

Or let you walk away shamefully

as you did in the end?

Maybe I should have said thank you,

I never did get the chance

 

And for that I’m truly sorry.