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I entered, chest heavy with shadows, the scent of sterility clinging to air. He traced my ribs with knowing fingers, his ear pressed to the thunder within. A gentle laugh bloomed between us; "Yours is no malady of the flesh. It is the ache of absence, the hollow carved by yearning’s hand." He slipped me a cure in trembling ink: "One spoon of her Saliva at dawn, her kiss dissolved in twilight’s still, no substitutes to tame such ache." I left, carrying no medicine in pockets, only the weight of his mortal truth she is both the wound and the salve. Note: Some illnesses are sent by fate, and some by beautiful women.
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4d ago
May 31, 2026 at 4:30 AM UTC
The Prescription of Longing
I entered, chest heavy with shadows, the scent of sterility clinging to air. He traced my ribs with knowing fingers, his ear pressed to the thunder within. A gentle laugh bloomed between us; "Yours is no malady of the flesh. It is the ache of absence, the hollow carved by yearning’s hand." He slipped me a cure in trembling ink: "One spoon of her Saliva at dawn, her kiss dissolved in twilight’s still, no substitutes to tame such ache." I left, carrying no medicine in pockets, only the weight of his mortal truth she is both the wound and the salve. Note: Some illnesses are sent by fate, and some by beautiful women.
Marwan-Baytie
Written by
56/M/Australia
4d ago
May 31, 2026 at 4:30 AM UTC
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