t4t wolfstar my beloved

“He had a scar on his hip from a dog bite in his childhood. Our first night together I kissed it and he breathed the most profound sigh and asked how did I know exactly where he wanted to be touched, that no one had ever touched him there. Our romance was like that, healing every old wound with magic disappearing powers until they were all tended. We lived out of time, nursed all injuries, shared all the stories and then were fortified and ready to go on with our life together.”

True, it’s only one wolf. Except that a wolf is never just a wolf. We say “wolf” but mean our own hunger, walking around outside our bodies. The thief desire is. The part of wanting we want to forget but can’t. Not with the wolf loose in the woods carrying the thick fur of our longing. Not with it taking in its mouth the flocks we keep penned behind barbed wire. If only we didn’t have to hear it out in the dark, howling.