I deceive my mind.
I am not lonely, I say.
I am content. Happy.
And this is true,
but it does not mean
that in the quiet of the night
when my babes are sleeping
and I lie still, pondering my thoughts,
that my skin does not scream for his touch,
that I can stop myself imagining
the feel of his arms around me,
the heat of his body next to mine,
the taste of his lips,
and the whisper of his voice.
He is faceless, this destiny of mine,
yet he leaves me wanting.
I know he will find me.
When the time is right, I will recognise his face.
A long time from now.
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