For years the man I have loved, married, and devoted my life to, had forgotten who I was. I don't know what image of me he had in his mind, but it's as if the moment a label was slapped on our relationship, he forgot me, the real me. It felt like he viewed me as a warden, a murderer, the killer of his life before responsibility and marriage. I never wanted that. We've been on the cusp of divorce often, and although I was dying inside for years, I knew we still hadn't really had our chance yet. But recently, amidst the chaos of the unknowing and fear, we found each other again. We're apart, not by choice, but by duty, but it feels like we're finding each other again. The desire to know one another for who we really are, in every sense of the idea, emotionally, rationally, and most definitely sexually. The intimate details of both of our twisted desires made me feel not so alone anymore, he started to open up and let me in. I wish I could see all of him, every angle, every aspect. I wish he knew that I love him for who he is. We will never always agree, or always want the same things, but I want to envelope him. I want to possess him. I want to be his muse again, his goddess devine... I'd let him consume me if only he would allow me the same. We both desire other people, and to act upon our darkest and most secret of fantasies together. I want to share my life, every aspect of it with him. And my hope is that one day I will consume him, that he would fight for me the way I have fought for him, that I will be the only one in the world he sees or desires. I want to be enough. Don't get me wrong, I want to play with him, and live our lives since this is the only one we have to live, and make the most of it, carpe diem! But I am selfish. I want to fill him up with love, lust, jealousy, need... all because of me.