Taken

I fell victim to the bad boy. Just like I said I wouldn’t.

You have a girl at home, and the kind of chemistry makes me forget about that. It acts like a string, pulling me into you. Even when I try to tell myself I don’t want to.

I didn’t give in at first. I held my reserve, my pride. But you saw right through that.

It wasn’t long and I gave into the pull. Gave into your lips on mine, your hands in my hair. Nails clawing at your back, wanting you closer.

I gave in to the stupid idea that I was somehow different. That because you chose me in that moment, it actually meant something. That maybe, you would choose me again and again.

I fell victim to the age-old trap: thinking they will change for you. The sickest part was that I wanted you to. To want me.

I told myself from the start that this was nothing more than physical. That I was only sucked in because I wanted the warmth of your skin, the caress of your lips. I could see through your pretend indecision. Your pretend hesitation that was supposed to trick me into thinking you actually have a conscience. I acknowledged it and made note of it, so that my feelings couldn’t get the best of me.

But they did.

Damn feelings that I can’t control. I bottled them up and wouldn’t allow myself to even think about anything more than your touch. But somehow those capped off feelings escaped.

And now you’re at the forefront of my mind. I am finding excuses to reach out to you. To make sure you’re thinking of me, too.

It’s just like in the movies when they tell you that you can’t change them. I knew that, but I still wanted to. You’re underestimating me thinking that I can’t see through all your tricks. But I may be overestimating myself in thinking that I won’t fall for them. That I am too good for that.

When in reality I am falling for it. And I’m falling hard.