Feeling his touch loving against me, wishing that he would stop.

All I can see is the way they used to prick me, pour my being into vials, picking the skin from my body.

Tears flowing as he took me, soft breaths slipping through my lips encouraging him to continue as my skin burns, begging him to never touch me again.

I like him, but it hurts, hurts like when they forced me down, chaining me to a table, taking away my everything just to prove they’re science.

He’s so gentle and so caring, but seeing him above me, reminds me of how much it hurt not being able to resist against the white clothed hands, as they held my down keeping me there with those blacks straps on the side of the table.

How could something so beautiful be what takes me back to it even though I wanted this?