Raw Confide

I never imagined that desire could feel like a tug-of-war, until that night. It started with a simple invitation—her voice soft, coaxing, dripping with mischief. “Why don’t you come over? I need someone to talk to…” By the time I got there, I was already caught between temptation and hesitation. On one side was the comfort of what I knew—safe, predictable, familiar. On the other was a thrill so sharp it made my pulse spike and my breath shallow. She was waiting, leaning against the doorway, every curve accentuated by the dim light. Her smile was effortless, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a promise I wasn’t sure I was ready to keep. “I thought you’d come,” she whispered, and the closeness of her body sent heat crawling over my skin. My mind screamed caution, but my body betrayed me. I wanted to pull back, to cling to the safe, the known—but every inch of her called me forward. Fingers brushed, lips grazed, and I realized I was stuck in the middle: between what I should do, and wh...

I trusted you the way you trust family. No doubts. No backup plan. No fear. I told you my plans when they were still fragile. I showed you my weak side, not just my smile. But you took my trust and used it as a weapon. You smiled with me, then spoke against me. You knew my fears, then became one of them. The pain wasn’t just what you did… It’s that you knew better and still did it. Now I understand something: Not everyone close to you is for you. Some people are near you just to learn how to hurt you. So I don’t hate you. I just don’t trust the way I used to. And that hurts more than anger ever could.