In your head
I'm slow-dancing with him
head on his shoulders
hand on his chest
and he pulls him towards his lips for a kiss
how's your brain creating all of this?
You think
I went home with him
and laid on his bed
as he laid beside me and pulled me closer to him
and you think something happened then
how is that so?
You already know the full story of his visit
the door and his kiss on my neck
my silence and the revenge from my lips
so why are you still imagining this?
Do realize, darling, that you're the one for me
he never was, nor will he ever be
I didn't kiss him because I missed him
or because I loved him
I didn't do it for that at all
I did it so I could leave with the upper hand
because he always had the upper hand
his hand that created bruises
on the innocent skin of women
on my neck
on my thigh
which, in time would fade away
once he left
and so when he came back around again
I didn't feel a thing
not love
not sadness
not anger
I wanted to not fight
physically or verbally
so instead
I let him have
two things, so different
that he'd never fully understand
until he was older:
a punch and a kiss.
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PoetryA collection of poetry by @layschips1 RATED PG-13 HIGHEST RANK: #295 in Poetry © 2015 by layschips1 All Rights Reserved