Tuesday, October 20, 2009


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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