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I should’ve known better. 

I should’ve known that you were a recipe for disaster when all those bright red flags popped up. 

Yet I ignored every single one of them. Avoiding them like potholes in a road. 

They shouted at me, and I plugged my ears. 

The red was so bright I closed my eyes. 

I should’ve know better. 

I should’ve known that when your “I love you” dripped from your lips like sweet honey, that it was only to catch me, much like a fly, and lure me in. 

You didn’t love me. 

You loved my body. You loved the idea of loving me. You loved being infatuated. You loved feeling yourself inside of me. 

I should’ve known. 

I should’ve known that when you got what you wanted, you’d begin to get bored. 

The not so nice side of you began to show. Your harsh words and unwillingness to listen or understand came at me like bullets at close range. 

One night you tried to sleep with me and I said no, and explained that I wasn’t just a body. The next morning you tried again. I said “don’t you remember what we talked about?” You told me I was sleep deprived. I should’ve known then. 

I felt dead when I was with you. Yet I clung to those moments of pure bliss. Like when you called me beautiful. Or held my door for me. Or laughed at my joke. 

I should’ve known. 

I had every warning sign. Yet I ignored them all. 

I hope that the next doesn’t fall for your trickery. Your charm and your sly words. Your fast pace, your perfect smile. 

A handsome face doesn’t make a handsome heart, and I should’ve known. 

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