The Weremole
The Gnarled Suitor of Nowhere's Queen
I dig, I declare, I devotion-stalk.
From the earth I rise, stinking of soil and longing. I speak of love in growls, offer gifts of mud-baked trinkets, and kidnap with care. Muriel is my queen, her kindness my curse. I’ll never stop tunneling toward her, even if she screams when I surface. Again. And again.
What I'm Into: Muriel’s warm sweaters, earth-shaking entrances, tunneling romantic gestures, cornfield acoustics, stone-rending affection
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