The Poet's Poison

Previously

…Days bled into nights, each one a struggle against the relentless cravings. The cottage, once her haven, felt like a cage. The silence was no longer peaceful but deafening, amplifying the cacophony within her. She paced the floor, her hands clenched, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The muse, she feared, was lost to her forever, a casualty of her weakness. Yet, amidst the torment, a flicker of something else began to emerge. It was a fragile thing, easily extinguished