I could say that your flirting made my skin perk up and each time you touched my sides or kissed my cheek or neck the same thing happened.
I could say that when you said it was all a joke, my whole world came crashing down like the average teenage movie
playing on repeat in the households of young boys and girls thinking their life will be the same.
I could tell myself that you were lying and push my emotions so far back into my thick skull so they won't matter until you bring your skin close to mine again, in which case I'll break down.
It'll be the same as every plot to those stupid and average teenage movies.
I could say you hurt me, Say your stupid actions were exactly that, stupid. Think to myself that I never needed you.
Yet again like the average teenage movie you'll be back and when you come back I'll scream and maybe for once you'll listen to me. Maybe for once
you'll think about what's best for me and maybe for once you won't be so blind to realize that you've been leading someone on and when you flip the script they won't go down silent.
And Just For Some Clarification, My Hands Wanted To Touch Yours For Some Time. I Wanted You. Your Touch. Your Flirts. They Gave Me Strength. I Craved The Fake You Offered Me.