You sit there, staring at me with those desperate, yearning eyes, but I can see through you, lover. I can see the way you hold yourself, the way you fidget under my gaze, the way you pretend that my words don’t cut straight to your core.
I know you.
I know what you are.
And I know what you’re not.
You’re not enough for me. Not in the way I need. Not in the way a woman like me craves.
Don’t look so wounded. You’ve always known, haven’t you? From the very first moment I held your chin in my hand and looked deep into your eyes, you knew this day would come. The day when I would look at you and tell you, flat out, that I need more. That I deserve more. That I’m done pretending that what you provide is enough.…
