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■ The oak
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Each night I await
lost in the vast sea of my bed clinging only to one hope you will return again. Night is the refuge the sanctuary I seek daylight is only a torment a prelude to rapture. With darkness as your cloak you come to me suddenly shadowy perfect and silent your hot breath upon my neck. I am molten pliancy yours completely whatever you ask I give your private fount of desire. You sink into my embrace cool lips upon my flesh I surrender all to your touch a slave to your hunger. There is no time for me yet I feel hated dawn's approach mournful and despised in anguished languor I lie. One last kiss, caress your voice against my heart I am left bleeding and torn; oh how I hate the morning!
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