I find myself in a hotel room this morning far from home and my lover. I am a man of two people, two that have become me as one. To be separate from one's holy betrothed is to be far less than half you. It is to be no you because you are only you as the two of you. I lead a wasted youth, pigs company at best, and have no shred of claim to earthly delights. It is why grace so overwhelms me because I am one only when she makes me one. Holy matrimony always lives up to its Devine title.
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