Barking at the moon

CONTENT NOTE: this post contains erotic and explicit writing

I have no idea what phase the moon is in at the moment. Recently the nights have been heavily clouded and rain has run its tears down my window pane. I’ve not seen her for days.

Is she waxing? Waning? Half? Full?

She makes me howl.

She makes me weep.

She casts her glow across my sleeping body, studying me without my consent.

She wakes me in the night and we lie together, barely touching but palpably connected.

Until she slips from me.

Deserting me again.

And I start the day alone.

Where does she go?

To comfort another lover? On the other side of the world?

I miss seeing her face and feeling her cool touch.

I miss studying her, observing her shape and judging her mood.

And yet she never truly leaves me.

She is within me.

Tugging at me.

Filling my breasts and wetting my cunt.

She is relentless.

She gives me no respite.

Even as I sleep.

She comes for me again, and again, and again.

And I come for her: again and again and again.

photo credit: Pezibear on Pixabay

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