Resentment’s ugly. He makes his sneer so clear with me at the  butt of his insipid joke, and whether I’m an easy target or I’m the asshole big enough to constantly get hit, it doesn’t matter one little bit.

I won’t let him steal my spirit, no matter how hard he tries.  I’m not a pretty picture,  if you knew my life as a wife. I hate having this side, brooding alone in the dark long before the witching hour with a moon full, wondering…

What do I want???

That insatiable hunger, the need to kiss again, the longing to explore passionate sexuality, the desire for spontaneous body searches, feeding upon each other, laughing and loving, giving and receiving…

Ha! That’s not my world. Maybe I need a prostitute.

(I don’t write marriage often, and rarely leave it up long, but sometimes I just feel so stuck, laying next to someone who doesn’t know I’m there, I have to release my resentment so tomorrow my kids see me happy:)