Voyeur

 

Moon beckons a beacon for the night demon’s path. Comfort strewn by creaks
of cooling corners in the bedroom. Dutiful goodnight kisses obligate a renewed
commitment to freshly etched, stone set commandments of the marriage rite.

Left alone, he clicks familiar websites, browsing history carefully kept out of sight.
Easing tension transiently until eyes hit on a caress of a photo exhibited heedlessly.
Reality battles virtuality as thoughts slowly unzip the mask which slips silken to floor.

He fumbles, to unclasp the clips to cyberstrip his Jezebel who isn’t there any more.
As he closes his eyes, two knights collide and twilight pain is whipped alive again.
It feels right, this hardcore shame where he clamours death toll of Lilith’s liberation.

Lilith locks her front door, creeps upstairs. Scanning sky for moon’s position,
her brow furrows at full dominant shine onto cunny musked sheets that arouse him.
She remorsefully shakes her head at the calling of her name within the silence.

Hot shiver – against eyes that she cannot see, but hold her in a gaze of violence
of tormented past and mist a certain future. This salacious nymph lies down on
stake of anhedonia, praying for a peaceful sleep on splintered bed of obsession.

Shameless, as she blushes drowsy, his recurrent, fevered subjugation returns.
Feather of nightmares that tender a sting more than any crop. He binds red thread
round each wrist, tying her tight, taking refuge in her secluded humiliation.

All his loss, his gain, his forthcoming pleasure and perpetual pain lies in her delirium.
Dangering heavy on her solitude, watching her scream his screams, weep his tears
for him as he is muzzled and mislead by locked promise of marital monogamy.

He pushes his hardened possession into her, so subtle, gently as not to disturb her
memories of a broken heart. “I want the control” he whispers. She semi-swoons
a protest, but her unconscious relinquishes all resistance. He knows she is his again.

Hydropic yearning spreads herself to drink his flamboyant lechery. A salacious slave
of his command to enter evergreen eden. He ritualizes a devotional crucifixion with
slow tender touch, writing a sonnet on her breasts and raising her hips to his rhythm.

She licks and stokes abyss between who he thinks he should be and who he really is.
Caressing every conflict, nuzzling neuroses acted out in careless words of sin. Prudently,
he threshes her thighs in carnal vexation, every lash a fight against his compulsion.

“Let me go”, she pleads as he rollicks rough her ruffled long strands of auburn on pillow.
He pursues to violate her with his melody, “You will always be mine”. A jealous bite
of erotomania that brings them to obscene symphony, cadenced by her faithful cries.

He fades as she wakes, wet confusion blurs night into day. Taste on lips she cannot place,
Night visions flush fixation that fervid villain will return to reclaim his Juliet of dark tragedy.
Committed to Magdalene asylum, she rattles the bars on her window and awaits a rescue.

© Katypoetess 2013

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