She reads about a life she’s never had;
Of men, romantic, focused, fully there –
And yearns with an intensity quite sad,
For all she’s wanted, but could never share
The man she married: forceful and intense.
It’s had its moments, some bad and some good;
But she knows now, he’s never really cared
To understand her needs or wants – nor could.
They never watch a movie that she’d like,
They are with his friends, if with friends at all;
He comes home with desire, late at night,
She is a sort of wifely booty call
But in these books, that he thinks silliness,
She finds the searching look, the soft caress;
The women there are loved by men, and more:
They’re not just someone he comes home