But I was an idiot for believing there was a difference. Differences being in you (past to present), you and the last boy, and me (past to present). Now I'm so broken down with bruises everywhere, literally and metaphorically. I hate how I've become everything everyone always wanted, that being taken advantage of, and how I feel now in the dark.
A silver dagger, a sharp blade, pierce my skin, make the memories fade. I no longer yearn for your lips, a more distinct hatred for you has replaced that. But I'm a girl, with a heavy past and an anchor for a heart. I live in your compliments, sought after presence, and puppy dog eyes. When I see you, I forget past complications: I gave myself to you, fully, and now youre gone.
You are in love with a girl, still. And I am in love with a boy, still. Neither of which is the other. So, I cannot ask you with deafening reason to hold me with extensive warmth and allow me to feel every emotion you've ever felt. But a little recognition of my pain would do. I cannot blame you for moving slow with emotion, I know how damaged your heart must be, but do not lie to me with ideas of holiness in your actions.
Though you do not hold my attention as much as the former, I am growing fonder and fonder of your selfish lies. I am falling for an idea of you which you hold with great standards. I really don't want to be hurt again, and you are exemplifying exactly what I lost myself in prior.
I am not to be taken advantage of, however it is so, so easy. I need a backbone, or a saviour; you are crippling me. But in my endless need for the affection I have never obtained from a desirable boy, I am not running away as needed, nor walking, nor crawling; I am staying in what I manifest to be my reason for self-harm.
I am not the one for you, regardless of your claims. I am not infatuated with you, I am infatuated with the idea of you.