I may be your bride... |
He enters the room With mystery and poise, To see her sitting on An old wooden bed, All dressed in satin. Her face pale; yet radiant, her hair long and wavy, she sits in quiet reflection, as he slowly comes upon her. His eyes full of magnetism, his hair as dark as night, he reaches out to caress her in hopes to bring her closer. He runs his hand through her lustrous hair, then gently down to rest on her shoulder. Her beauty captivates him, only to then be confused by her continuous silence. She sits with a smile Looking into his eyes. The distance between them is closed as he places his hand lovingly upon her cheek gently moving up across her ear. Wanting a smile his hands move softly back to her cheek, then flutters across her lips, and down her delicate neck. The look she has in her eyes causes him to begin to smile. He kneels down in front of her, her eyes follow his movements. His need for her controls him as she remains to be silent. He begins to undress her, removing her long flowing white gown, kissing her gently as it glides to the floor. Then he drops her slip and slowly guides her back onto the bed, she is so beautiful he must kiss her again. Their kisses intensify as the passion between them begins to build, creating a union of flesh, Making two, into one. The heat of the moment burns into a roaring fire, their connection falters, leaving them trembling, as they each fall away, drifting into gentle slumber. As the broken beams of the mornings dawn, pierce through the windows, he is awakened with a startling feeling of intense horror. His chosen bride is gone. He slowly crosses over to her She's silent and motionless, dead upon his royal robe. Her dainty wrists slit and her neck all covered with dark red blood. A note gently laid upon her breast and written in a very delicate hand, "You ordered me to be your bride, but you can never make me love you." |