is me is really me

I wish I didn’t long for this. Wish for this. Wish for a night spent in his proximity. His nakedness mere inches from me. The feel of him in the same space in which he sleeps. It’s not that I don’t understand his reasons, not at all. It’s just that it breaks my heart that I don’t mean any more to him than as his personal fuck toy. I know I didn’t sign up for any more than that, but the woman in me, yes the woman that entered this with her eyes wide open. The woman that is in love with him wants this more than anything. And he knows it. He knows it and each week there is a hint or a tease or even a promise that it will happen the next time. It’s been more than 6 next times with no next times in sight. And so my wish now moves from the bucket list forever.