10/28/14

She wants to be a muse, an inspiration, a raison d’être of lustful and passionate pursuit. She desires to be found newly fascinating every minute, freshly perceived as if, despite the passage of time, no part of her could ever be seen with mundane familiarity. Like a puzzle without a solution or a shifting labyrinth where any who enter happily wander lost in its passages forever, eagerly searching behind every corner for a dullness that’s never found. She wants to be that smoldering mystery, to leave the mind wondering why it’s still lingering on her touch or beauty, constantly coming back to the memory of how seamlessly her eyes catch the light every time she smiles. She wants to know that he’s looking without needing to turn and check, to enchant and seduce effortlessly in even the most routine situations. She wants to feel that his happiness and ambitions arise directly from her, aroused in him with ease by her peerless presence. (So she’ll do anything to make her presence be one she think’s he’ll desire). She craves to be idolized, not by the world, but by the fire ignited in his gaze as he absorbs the flawlessness of her form like divinity.

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