There is a strange calm before the storm.
I enjoy every moment with caution.
Hope for the best, prepair for the worst.
Even if I'm on my toes, I still get assulted from behind.
But I know who is my attacker: Him.
His face breaches my fragile levees.
Grief's iron fist is choking my throat without mercy.
When the assult is over, I am left with a hunger that not even
an all-you-can-eat buffet can fix.
My soul longs for a mate.
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