my lover poets

15.

my bed used to be my favorite place,
did you know that?
did you know it would be ruined because of what you had done?
every time I lay even an eye upon my own bed,
I feel nauseas. 
because all I can think about was that night.
that night I had laid on your bed.
and yeah maybe it isn't my own bed you had touched me on.
but it was your bed--that brought the pain and fear.
it was your bed,
that hurt my body.
now every night when I lay on my bed,
I can only imagine your hands snaking onto my body,
the body you had begged for more of every. single. day.
I had given in when you said you were home alone,
telling me to come over.
I did.
I didn't think too much of it.
you said it was just to hang.
how could I be so stupid?
I still think about it to this day.
it's been years.
but still,
I'm afraid of my own bed,
for the thoughts force the idea you'll still find a way in.
still,
find a way to long to touch my own body again,
just for the sake of it.
not once caring of my thoughts behind it.
exactly like that night on February 15th.
but still,
I can remember every detail of the night,
that gave me a reason to never trust a man again.
it's been years.