And there it is.

The vengeance.

Bubbling, broiling, red-hot rage buried below the surface.

It feels like magma in the pit of my stomach. It bursts and breaks, a tsunami encompassing my Isle.

No longer can I separate the self from the sea. No longer can I keep my head above the magma. No longer can I breathe my precious, stoic oxygen.

It rears its ugly head and I, perhaps missing the monster, dive willingly, confidently into it.

I hope you think of my lips when you kiss hers. I hope you see my chestnut brown in her sapphire blues. I hope you moan my name every time she tastes your nectar.

Choke.