I Don't Love My Husband
I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to hurt him. If I say it as a mantra, will it change anything? Thirteen years and I need so much more... I feel so deeply, want so intensely, need so much that's passionate and push-me-up-against-the-wall, instead of this friendly routine with the "love you" and the impersonal kiss and the occasional coming together where I try so hard to want him and end up using him for friction.
And he knows nothing. Oh, he may sense things are off and have been for a while, but I'm a great liar, a great deny-er, so good at "nothing's wrong, I'm fine." And there's guilt, a lot of it. No bodily infidelity but the desire, the potential, again with the need.
Guilt and guilty secret pleasure in wanting more, longing for different, for intensity, for eyes-meeting-across-a-crowded-room spark and nervous anticipation. Mixed up. Or maybe not, maybe just the hot star of an idea that I can choose.
I can choose.
And he knows nothing. Oh, he may sense things are off and have been for a while, but I'm a great liar, a great deny-er, so good at "nothing's wrong, I'm fine." And there's guilt, a lot of it. No bodily infidelity but the desire, the potential, again with the need.
Guilt and guilty secret pleasure in wanting more, longing for different, for intensity, for eyes-meeting-across-a-crowded-room spark and nervous anticipation. Mixed up. Or maybe not, maybe just the hot star of an idea that I can choose.
I can choose.