My Wolf —Women Who Think Too Much

I have howled mournfully at the Wolf’s moon, knee deep in the snow of a frozen winter’s night. Grieving the loss of my lover, the fantasy of he and I tangled in white, cotton sheets, touching for the last time his rough face happy, content, in love, just an illusion. It’s complicated, he growled as he changedContinue reading “My Wolf —Women Who Think Too Much”