The fall air pushes through my hair as I stroll to place a fresh, apple pie on the windowsill. I peek through the window at my sweet baby playing in the small kiddie pool, splashing water all over my husband. Their dark hair is soaked and they are surrounded by joy under the September sun.
My evil being is calm and at bay.
She has grown and learned to love peace and not crave chaos all the times.
However,
She still strikes from time to time.
She guides my brown palm to my budding stomach.
She draws circles around it,
A baby is there.
While distracted, my husband
“If I wasn’t so fucked up, I would be the perfect wife.” My husband’s face is still as he threads his fingers through my thick curls.
“My sweet, delusional baby,” He grips my waist, pulling me closer to him. He plans a kiss on my forehead, down my face and onto my neck. My skin tightens as he begins to suck and bite my skin.
I release a moan before surrendering to him.
He is living proof that my sweet delusion has come to life.
The Paramour 