The yearning starts off in the morning as a low buzz, just beyond the limits of hearing. The shadow of an itch, not yet demanding your full attention.
By midday, it’s harder to focus. Your mind starts to wander down dark, familiar paths.
By sundown, it’s a full-throated roar. Everything you do, see, hear, warped by that single desire. Your mental protestations crumble in the face of the onslaught.
That night—every night—hot blood will mingle with hot tears of shame.
This is not what you wanted. But this is what you have. For now and eternity.
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