Static by The_Writer4

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Some of the first encounters still maintain their cohesion even though I've gone over them a million times.
Like when a man much too old for me said he wanted to be mine.
Or like when someone I hardly knew at the time slid their hand up my thigh.
I still feel the weight of an unwanted body on mine.
Or the grip of a hand on my neck when I admitted that I was contemplating suicide.
Or maybe the angry words aimed at me to say I was bitch and a slut that suddenly changed when they wanted to make up.
And now I can't seem to remember the reason why I stayed, all I know is that this persistent guilt remains.

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