Not A Love Story

The End Of Me.

For the first time,

I felt loved.

His smiles were genuine towards me,

His words were soft and twice thought.

For the first time,

He loved my body.

His fingers were soft,

Rubbing into my neck for the first time.

For the first time,

He hadn't wanted my body

and for the last.

The last thing I saw

Was the floor,

I was a bloodied mess while he was crying like usual.

But I couldn't hear his pleas anymore.

I didn't want to.

And for the last time,

I let myself be touched by another's hand in a painful way.

Mainly because,

I had no choice but to close my eyes,

And stay that bloodied mess

While he cried

About the blood seeping from my forehead

And the blood on his hands

With my DNA

That the police collected

Along with every other thing in the room along with my body

Except my story.