I want her; she knows it, and I know I’ll never get it.

She wants me, but more than that she wants her husband.

Something inside me makes me think that in a way she wants her husband to be a little bit more like me.
But then she wouldn’t get the illicit thrill that comes with our affair.

She called it an infactuation – I see it as me loving her with all that I am because that’s who I am.

She’d complex; a riddle wrapped in an enigma; sharp tongued, blunt worded, capricious, voracious, hypocritical, indefatigable.

She wants to be wanted. I provide that.
I just wish it didn’t hurt so much in the process


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