You Weren’t My First

I wish I could tell you

that you were my first, but

you weren���t. I can���t imagine

what it would mean to you

to know that you were the first,

the first to promise me pleasure,

then to deliver me pain as you entered me

and ripped my insides out, leaving me

feeling empty. The blood staining

my sheets and my hands is nothing new.

I know you���re waiting for me to

tell you that I never loved another like

I love you. And you want me to say

that what we share is magic, something

that could never be felt between two

other people. But lies don���t build fires

and there���s nothing to be gained by trying

to build a fire with kindling drenched

with my tears. No, you weren���t my first.

You were not the first to sell me a love

that could not hold the fullness of me

cuz you were only interested in filling yourself,

so your love was full of holes. You weren���t

the first to take my love and use it as a

weapon to damage me. And you weren���t

the first to look past me, trying to find value

in anyone but me. I know you���re waiting

to hear that you were my first. That you���re

hoping the blood on my sheets means

you took me where no other person took me,

but I have to be straight with you,

you weren���t my first. There have been

many before you. Many who used my feelings

like a samurai sword to try and kill me.

The blood will continue to flow and

stain my sheets and cover my hands.

Cuz no you weren���t the first

to try and kill me. And you won���t be

the last.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind