I imagine something along the lines of sympathy and lust.
The slightest suggestion of affection is blown off by your crystal clear rejection.
There is no obvious path to connection, just an obstacle course fueled off of my
perplexion.....
But when the lights turn off and the sedatives have taken their toll, the toxicity of my touch is overpowered by lust's possessing hold.....
Until the silence returns, guilt combined with disappointment...
I am back to my desperate and convenient role....
Your inevitable weekly appointment .
