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Click hereDon't be stupid. You'll like it through the tears;
You'll like trying to push him off and his laughter;
And his nails scratching as the cotton stretches,
After yanking the hem of the dress up your body,
While the skin still burns.
Don't be stupid. You thought he liked you?
He liked pulling your panties out of the way
And hearing your pathetically immature sounds;
And the dreadful sense of your innate stupidity
And how the skin still burns,
Don't be stupid. He can recognise your inanity,
Hopelessness and the fact he's going to break you;
Is that when you stop and remember not to remember.
How he got inside you? Go on. Edit it out now.
Even though the skin still burns
Don't be stupid. Turn your head and admire
The pale leaves: each curved like a scimitar,
Would they float on a pool of tears or sink in?
Like the thought that this hurts, when it shouldn't
Still burn the skin
Don't be stupid. Remember the fisted hands aching;
Remember the finish and the pull out and the tug
Of the dress down with appalling ease. You want
to know the lack of worth? And you want to know if
The skin still burns?
Don't be stupid.