I knelt before her and taken hold of her delicate wrist... But before my lips could taste her warm, soft skin, she pulled away from my grasp. Leaving me kneeling before her: Devoted worshipper. Willing slave.

I'm am mad, crazy, insane...
My heart lives in my throat.

She hated my hair swathed in cloth. Loathed my beard. Scoffed when I went without eyeliner.
She is as cool as wind driving winter's snow. She has not permitted me a scrap of sustenance in days.

She wishes to know why I want her.
Only her, nobody else.

I have shouted and screeched it; beaten my chest like the forceful alpha male.
I have opted the role of the submissive, crawled before her and whispered it with wide, watery eyes.
I have wound around her ankles and purred it to her so that she might know.

She has rewarded me only with ruffle of my hair and a kiss to my brow - leaving me near death from her touch.

Gods, I hope that she feeds me soon...