There’s a few things I’d like to know
As I seem to have missed something
Since when does opening your apartment door
Mean opening your legs?
Since when does comforting someone
Mean they can make themselves comfortable
Inside of you?
As if my body has a doormat that reads:
Permission to Enter
I want to know when my voice became nothing but noise
You can just muffle out with your own moans
When did I lose the property rights
To my own body?
You know, I’ve told myself so many lies
And I’ve drank myself blind
To the point that I questioned if this happened at all
Because my heart was trying to make excuses for you
Convincing me it was my fault, to shake it off and move on
But nothing is more real than remembering how it feels
To be treated like you are a mere body
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