
As he emerges from his last relapse and begins accumulating some clean time, our physical connection is coming back to life. I love it...I love remembering what it is that I loved first about him. I love feeling that foundation in mutual attraction regaining its solidity, and I love the feeling of looking forward to coming home to him.
I'm also fucking terrified of it. That fuckhaze-feeling gets all in my mind and makes me susceptible to his lying. It's like my brain gets bathed in semen and sweat and smells, and I can't think clearly. I think that he's wonderful, and I let my guard down, and I let him close to me, giving him opportunities to invade my stillness. I don't want my serenity disturbed...but I do want to enjoy my husband while he's here. I'm not so sure that the other guy that lives in his body, that guy who I'd love to drown forcibly in the toilet, might not come back soon.
Photo Credit: Marcio Melo