You are a cruel, cruel machine. Like a battering spouse, you lure me in with the "I love you's" and "I want you's." Within thirty minutes, though, there I am, aching, soggy and out of breath, my ass thoroughly kicked. Yet I come back for more.
Why? Could it be the "I am only doing what's best for you's" or the "you need me's?" Could it be my own insecurities about my physical appearance? I don't know what binds me to you.
But sometime, when I think about you, I feel twin rushes of desire and revulsion. I know you will shape me into something prettier than I am now. But I know your chiselling will cause me great pain.
Why do I come back?