I feel like a prostitute for feelings. Like fucking gives you dominance over me, let you tramble till I see I'm bleeding for thee. There are stages to me feelings, the want, the restrain, the giving in, then repeating again. I wanted to know you, to feel for you as you feel for me but then once I held you, there was less of me to begin. I can't feel happiness, I can't feel joy, I'll never love another man as I once did a boy. I cannot trust, nor could I ever, that I would not be heartbroken by one single tether. You say you like me, so why don't I? Why can't I return a feeling as simple as a thy. So we fuck, to see if its there, that connection I am yearning to share. And while its neither good nor bad, its decently polite I still feel as normal as I did the previous night. Then the next morning, as we rise, we fuck again and I start to despise my prostitute for feelings.