I will always wish that I was somebody else, a more acceptable
body she might welcome with open arms, the perfect man who she can embrace, someone
who can bring her the joy I cannot bring, a sense of bliss I’ve lost yet other
men may still provide, this sense of it being so good, so potent, so full of
passion, she might perished at that very moment when it all transpires and she
feels it filling her up.
I will always wish I could be that man, hovering over her in
those dark hours, her gaze in a haze as she receives me, the change that
transforms her during the buildup and finally comes to fruition with a moan and
a sign, who this guy might be, who could provide this intensity, this
monumental moment when she loses grip and slips into a bliss so deep she might
drown in it, unable to easily recover, never able to go back to that same sense
of innocence we might have had before, her face glowing with it, altered
forever.
If only I could be that man.
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