What do you do when your betrayer asks for more.
You don’t say (like I did), I have given you everything, my youth, my beauty, my trust, my heart, my body, my hopes, my love, my dreams.
What more can I give you? A kidney perhaps? Or a lobe of liver?
The Master stared wistfully at the full wintery moon trapped in the trees, as he wistfully handed the shirt off his back to the thief who had stolen into his hut.
What a poor host I must seem, he lamented. I wish I could give you