They taunt me like a beautiful woman shows herself to a married man.
They cry for me like a baby for his mother.
They use me like the client the psychiatrist.
They punish me like an angry father beats his child with a leather belt to teach him a lesson.
They draw me to them like the blazing fire draws a helpless moth for it’s death.
They gift me with bitter-sweet guilt.
They leave me breathless aching, screaming, begging for a single drop of air.
They disappoint me like when a millionaire is looking at his life.
But they love me.
They want me.