~For the one who Loves to read but hates to be read.~
Love is appreciation not possession.
Love frightens the terrible two within.
Keep grownandsexy, cute and carefree are far less costly, messy, and troublesome.
They should not spark desire which will not light lust and leave love without flame.
"Should" should be feared.
He said he saw the hair first.
He probably saw the ass first.
Shoulda caught that.
He said “titles weren’t necessary.”
They weren’t necessarily for us.
But neither was he.
Shoulda caught that too.
He said “your need to be claimed is inherently un-feminist.”
I ate that shit up, swallowed my pride in the process, and became constipated with contempt.
He said “we are going to prove that you can have it all.”
Prove to whom?
For what reason?
And what does “it all” mean anyway?
All viable questions.
All never vocalized by me.
In the aftermath, I wonder if it was easy being both storm and sun shine?
Problem and solution?
Shooter and target.
I realize now I was only the afterbirth of his love.
I was never his target, never the full package, never HIS at all.
Essential to the creation but discarded upon delivery.
And I wanted to be, possessed by him, how fucking un-feminist of me.