Morning and I woke up with an ache in the fucking pit of my heart.
It was with this ache that I began my bland descent into morning rituals of fixing food but I was led back to bed because apparently my 'birthweek' has started and I forgot all about it. Yeah. Imagine that.
Calm I went back to bed to sleep for another hour and woke up to a bit of a disheveled house because the four cats of the catopalypse had been at it all night.
But we are discussing my stinging pangs brought about affair de couer which sets me alight, nay, torches me to a cinder each moment and it'd be a lie were I to say it's a ghastly torment, because the torture is most sweet, of every love sodden memory with a tendency to make my soul slur with syrupy reminiscence.
It's just the sudden and total deficiency of our amour soaked days that have me yearn silently..all the time.
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