Some carry trunks full of ideals for love
Some carry tattered thoughts in their back pocket
I carried mine in a pretty little box
Open the box and you would find requirements, what-ifs, expectations, “perfect”, tests, fears
It isn’t as pretty inside is it?
“Little Love Box” is what I’m going to start calling my cunt, LLB for short. I wish this post could be about my LLB, and its needs, but I’m just not feeling it today.
I’m surrounded by people going through heartbreak, lost love, blown expectations. At the same time I’m drowning in guilt for the light-hearted way I’m approaching having sex with a married man, my friends are finding husbands cheating on them right and left.
Get that, I’m guilty for not feeling guilt. Shouldn’t I just be guilty for contributing to the delinquency of a husband that is not mine? I’m making my boundaries clear, he is somewhat respectful of them. Another story for another day, I promise, its being written as soon as I have a good chunk of time alone…