I don't want to admit what I think of you.
Because your worst suspicions are probably true.
I would say sorry, if that had any clout.
But that's not what our relationship's about.
This is not healthy, by any sane measure.
To want and need this much pain with my pleasure.
But I need your barbs and stings,
My life is built on these things.
I wish I wanted beatings, wish I wanted blood.
Those I can get, leave you in the mud.
But I need this manipulation, this gaslighting.
Because I need to know I'm right to keep fighting.