"Who are you? You are the the truth out screaming these lies. You are the truth, saving my life."

We were sitting on his bed.  I just got off the phone, I was crying.  He grabbed my hand, guiding me closer to him.  I brought myself closer, our knees touching.  He wrapped his arms around me, ran his fingers through my hair.  He whispered in my ear that everything was okay.
I closed my eyes, tried to calm down.  I bit my lip.  He grabbed my chin gently, lifted my head.  He looked at me deeply, like he was examining my soul. 
He kissed the tears away on my cheeks, and his lips traveled to mine.  I kissed him, lightly back.  I felt the salt of my tears on his mouth.  He kissed me again, a little slower, I kissed him back, and parted my lips.   we fell into sync, my tongue sliding against his.
I started to lay down on my back, he brought himself down on his side.  His hand slid down my cheek, on to my shirt, his thumb went under, and he gently rubbed my stomach.
he worked farther down, letting his hand linger in my lap, his fingers slowly working the buckle of my jeans. 
I slid my hand down his back, under his shirt.  I pulled it over his head.  My pants were undone. my shirt was off.  I kissed his neck, his collar bone.  his tongue massaged my cleavage. I wanted more.  He did, too.  We yearned for one another.

It was just part of a memory.  I missed the old times.

Then I remember getting called a bitch.  Being told I was a slut for the shirt I was wearing.  I remember the times he made me cry, and told me to shut up, because my tears didn't work on him.

and  I wanted to kick myself in the ass for ever missing anything.