Because I Just Said Yes

My tears are hot remnants of my sin.
With a simple word: "yes" I let it begin,
faking pleasure that's not really there.
I'm empty inside; I've passed the point to care. I've given him an invitation to my body so he won't disappear.
His lips are fire, scarring my skin,
starting from my mouth, down to my chin,
tongue flicking out at my throat, liquid pain.
I close my eyes, trying not to feel ashamed. Something hard comes up between my legs.
"Please don't!" my mind silently begs,
but instead a moan comes out of my mouth.
I can't start this, say yes, then not put out. So I clench my eyes shut in shameful ecstasy, writhing and moaning like I enjoy this.
In my head I envision a childhood fantasy, biting my lip, trying to avoid focusing on this insanity.
A few minutes later the invasion is over.
I crawl out of bed, muttering an excuse,
rush out frantically and lock myself in the bathroom.
The tears stream down, expelling my pain.
I hate myself for giving in today, but know that soon I'll do it again.
I loathe you and I love you. I fear you, but I want you.
I need to leave, but feel compelled to stay.
My emotions are so contridictory, and yet all the same.
In my mind I mull over this game of love and sex, and think,
"It's all my fault because I just said yes."