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She used to tell me to know my place. That always confused me. Not because I didn’t know it. Because I did. I was the lover. Hard R. I had never asked him to be my man. I had never waited for him to choose me. I never wanted her title, her house, her marriage,…
My future husband would never. I don’t remember the first time I thought it. I remember how often I eventually did. Your husband would be talking. Explaining. Arguing. Defending. Sometimes doing something so absurd that I could feel the sentence forming before he finished. My future husband would never. At first, it was funny. Almost…
Your husband was always on his way somewhere. Toward divorce. Toward independence. Toward his own home. Toward me. He just needed time. There was always a reason for time. In the beginning, he told me he didn’t want to be married. He had been tricked into it. He was unhappy. He was going to leave.…
Your husband told me he didn’t want to be needed. I remember that because I thought it was one of the more honest things he ever said. He didn’t want another person depending on him for their happiness. He didn’t want to feel responsible for holding someone else’s life together. He wanted to be wanted.…
Let me try to draw it for you. I tried to draw it for myself once. Not literally. Although, looking back, paper might have helped. Your husband told me you were basically family before you became his wife. That sentence seemed simple enough. It wasn’t. The more he explained, the more branches appeared. Then the…
I knew you long before I knew you. Or rather, I knew the version of you your husband gave me. There is a difference. I didn’t understand how important that difference was then. In the beginning, I simply listened. Your husband talked. A lot. About himself. About his childhood. His family. His friends. His mistakes.…
I didn’t meet your husband in a park. That’s simply where we met in person. I met him in a chat room. And before I knew his voice, his eyes, his marriage, or much of anything else about him, I knew what his dick looked like. Not because he had sent it privately to me.…
I have thought very little about you. That seems like a strange place to begin a story addressed to you, but it is the most honest one. You existed at the edges of mine. A name in a conversation. A voice from another room. A story he told me. Occasionally, a girl standing directly in…
Some people believe love changes us I don’t I think love reveals us it shows the places we’ve hidden the rooms we’ve locked the truths we’ve postponed sometimes it asks us to wait sometimes it asks us to leave sometimes it asks us to become someone we have never been If this story means anything…
Violeta Noir 