She Didn't Want To Grow Up Yet

"I love you," he said.

"I do this because I love you," he said.

"If you love me, you'd do it too," he said.

 

She closed her eyes.

He undressed her.

She followed, timidly.

He kissed, softly.

She stayed quiet

as he touched her. 

 

She just laid there.

No "yes," but no "no."

Too scared to say anything.

So, who's fault is it?

 

He told everyone.

She regretted everything.

He became a man.

She became a whore.

He left her.

She lost herself.

 

All alone.

Helpless.

Confused.

 

"He did love me," she said.

"He did it because he loved me," she said.

"I love him, so I did it too," she said.

 

But that's not what love is.

It's loving somebody, not a body. 

 

Time for the cliche part.

If only I could go back in time.

To tell her that she doesn't have to do anything.

To tell her that she doesn't have to prove her love.

To tell her that she doesn't deserve this. 

 

I'm sorry to my parents.

I'm sorry to my friends.

But most importantly,

I'm sorry to that little girl who grew up too soon.

 

Because I know she didn't want to grow up just yet.  

But at least she can speak up for herself now. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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