longing has overstayed its welcome

low section of man against sky
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

She studied the calendar. How many more years before her desire died down, she wondered. Before biology would loosen it grip on hormones that held her hostage. It was a taskmaster demanding carnal satisfaction, an appendage she neither wanted nor needed, a great distractor from dreams that mattered. It would never be satisfied, could never be satisfied, and wasn’t worth the effort. It was an albatross around her neck, a monkey on her back… The whole damn zoo clung to her in one form or another. All she could do was wait and long for the end of longing.

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