Just How it was...

His hands all over me, even when I asked him not to. Kept pushing, pushing, not stopping even when I had tears falling. There were times I did push him off of me, wailing at the panic that arised in me. There were times, I knew he knew I didn't want him to do it, but he didn't care for me, he only cared for his needs and finishing. Laying there, curled up in a ball, wondering why and wondering if I deserved this to happen. Him sitting there lighting up a cig like usual, not comforting me. Even though it was obvious I was hurt. Wiped the tears from my eyes, walked out to use the bathroom, then came back to him and watched things. Forgetting what he done to me and pushing it out my mind, only because I didn't want to be lonely. It didn't happened not once, not twice, but multiple times. Some of them, I would't call it bad, other times it was horrid and makes me want to cry and cry. Why did I let it happen so many times? Was I that needy for attention and someone to hold me? Or was I just navie and just didn't know any better? No, I knew what he was doing to me, I saw it before. The only difference was he wasn't punching me, but I knew deep down, he might've done that later on in the relationship. My mind knew for awhile he wasn't good. But I didn't have the guts to kick him out in the streets so I let it happened. I was too nice to him. Love covered my eyes like a blanket and shield me from all the toxins trying to leak through. Finally, the blanket was ripped off and now I'm trying to regain my warmth and put back in my own clothes without a helping hand. Tears still fall to this day, remembering how he tortured me, but also how he held me with a small amount of love. My love was to pure and bright for his tainted hatred for the world. This love isn't for the weak heart, only for those who aren't scared to hold with two hands and hold without any hesitation.