I laughed as you twirled a single one of my curls between your fingers.
"You're just not like most girls," you stated.
I looked down at the purple spot on my thigh.
What you meant was that unlike other girls, I put up with your fingers doing more than caress my hair.
And my body knew all too well of your strong fingers and the bruises they could leave behind.
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YOU ARE READING
Every Lie We Told
PoesiaEvery lie that escaped our lips because our hearts were too busy beating for each other.