You think just because you saw her naked you have the upper hand? You think that just because she took her clothes off in front of you, you now know her better? You seriously think that seeing her body is just enough and you’re the winner here? Just because your fingers trailed down her nimble flesh doesn’t give you the right to glint your eyes like you know better. Calling her at midnight to talk about how you wished your head was buried between her thighs all the time isn’t what she wanted.
You never bothered to understand her point of views, her perspective on life, her dreams, and what made her what she is today. While all you talked about was sleeping with her and how she wasn’t ever the one you could emote with, making her feel smaller and smaller day by day, but entrapping her so, that she couldn’t ever leave; he made sure to be the shoulder she could weep on and sleep on. Did you bother about knowing what she is so passionate about that it made her cry? Did you pay attention to the smaller details about her that she wished for you to take notice of? But what did you notice? How her bra could be seen through her t-shirt and how all you could think about was biting her like a lusty wolf prancing with pseudo grace at a prey to appear harmless on the outside but in your mind a hurricane of all the wrong intentions; appearing to be on her terms, but having it your way all the time?
Just because you got to touch her doesn’t mean you have left a mark on her. You might have marred her skin, left her thinking that she has done wrong by you, wronged herself but you know what? She is not afraid of losing you because she knows every cell in her body that you touched will be replaced. She is afraid of losing him because he knows pieces of her and fits them together like a puzzle that you never even cared about starting to solve. Just because you saw her body doesn’t mean you were intimate with her. He was.