...and not eating, not sleeping, not caring much about anything except the object of my affection. On my mind all day, all night, I s'pose, when I can remember what dreams there could possibly be; none better than he. Wakes me at all hours, like yet another baby to nurse. Every distraction from his attention is deemed a nuisance, depriving me of my passion. World, go feed, clothe, and tend yourself. My lover awaits; lovingly, longingly. My lover is insatiable, unrelenting in pursuit. My lover is an obsession, a calling. His desire is for me alone, his words falling only from my lips; I am all that he knows, and only he can reveal all that I am. He overflows with inspiration; a gushing spring, desperate to be imbibed, to become and integral and nourishing element of me; to unite us forever in purpose and motion. He is jealous, and I will neither tease nor betray; no, I cannot trifle any longer with his pure affections. He has waited far too long. His intention clear, his proposal awash in unerring devotion; we must be.
Quite the mystery "man", no?
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