After she leaves, I simply watch the sun come up. There is no use in trying to sleep for my heart is racing. I already miss her presence.
Not just the lustful, moaning sensual goddess that unfurled before me in the dark. I adore the witty, teasing clever little fox who at every turn has a ready answer or a tart little tone to her voice. She has so much spirit that I do not have the first idea of how she survived here for three years in such isolation.
Pulling some white cotton drawers on I open my small window and inhale the fresh air. Another hour and dawn will arrive. I rest my arms on the sill, the cold air tingling at the scratches and nips my darling lavished on me.
War wounds and battle scars I shall tease her, when really, they are a trophy. To have enraptured her sense
