I know that I am toying with a man, that he is bound together by more than blood, muscel, and skin. *He has feeling too.* So, I should stop. Let him move on with his life, treat him like a man and not a toy. But I don't want to.

I love the ragged edge to his voice, too much need in too small a vessal. I love the way his hands shake before he attempts to touch me.

Rejections, a bitch, huh. That man turned me away, never made me cum, never respected me when I was good and kind and giving. Now look what he has got himself into.

Everytime we speak, I can hear the love in his voice. He wants to say it. It eats him up. He has stoped fucking other girls. He finally asked me to be his girlfreind. I chose that day to tell him I couldn't see him anymore.

Now he lives for phone calls, that become fewer and fewer. Now he needs me. I have become a drug, an unattanable woman,an idea, a creature created from fantasy.

I like my new postion and I like the red on my hands. Blood always was my faveorite color.

-Adipose

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