I regret ever letting you touch me again.
You and I both knew that I’ve always been susceptible to chaos -

With a volatile heart that piques too easily
For any morsel of love that it’s shown
And hands that are always aching to be held
Because I’m unable to warm them on my own. 

I hate that you know how my body reacts to pain 
And that you made it routine to use it for your pleasure
I hate how my back arched for you
How my tongue danced with yours
Because I didn’t know any better.

I still feel those hands on me
And it makes me want to rip off my own skin
Because the memories of what I let you do to me
Keep me from being who I should’ve been.