You can either be his woman or his muse. You cannot be both.
He can either make love to you or wish he could make love to you. The unattainability of a muse is what allows her to inspire; the unknown infinitely augments this desire clawing out through his flesh and trying to reach the surface at any cost, using any means.
He can either worship you or have you. Once he's had you, your celestial allure loses its mystery and becomes a reality. Would you rather be the manna he's never had or his morning cup of coffee?
Me? I'm the girl once he's attained he completely lost interest in.
Pre-quarter Of A Century Thoughts I
Pre-quarter Of A Century Thoughts II