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a man comes for a woman in the night.


Submitted:Aug 18, 2012    Reads: 147    Comments: 6    Likes: 2   


What is a man if not doomed to look not upon the face of true beauty? What is he if not chained to the desires of his heart? Never can he escape that which drives him to commit such evil acts against those he cares a great deal for. Never can he be free of the desires of the heart, the desire to have what he could never hope to poses, in this life time, or any other.

I sit now looking upon her, that creature of grace. She is destined to be with me in one death, in one peace. The night is dark and full of surprises, of forgotten people and unwanted shadows. I am both of these things. I am the ghost that observes her ever move. Her grace is one of pure delight, of splendor and all that shall be mine tonight.

In the shadows I hide, secret and without breath. I wait for that angel which shall come to me in the darkness, the darkness of my soul. I hear her; I see her and feel her from afar. Oh why must I continue to shy away, why must I pretend that she would ever stay. I hear the sounds of the calling; I hear the sounds of the demons which lurk in my heart. An eternal lust stirs within me, one of savoring delight.

Am I Mad? Oh most certainly so. To wait here, to stand here, to plain her demise has been one of my most pleasurable times. The shadows hide me, they conceal my true intend, my mad ambitions, my animalistic intentions. Desire is a cursed yearning, one that cannot be denied or overcome by any mortal man.

She is the very idea of what is good, of what is right and what love truly is. She shines like the sun of old, as she steps into that dark alley way, I know she will not be leaving there today. Rain is pouring, I am coming, and she is running. she flees to escape the heavy water and return to her home. Sadly, oh sadly, return is no longer an option.

She has no choice; she has no freedom, no rights and no mercy, no one to help her. I am her salvation, her reckoning, and end. She is the prize of my day. She is my pray and object of obsession. She comes closer still, and I remain unseen. I am but a shadow in the wind, an unknown specter of the night.

I am cursed to look upon her face, to see her wonderful grace, grace that I must take, that I must have. In midst of the shadows I come, I leap down upon her. Fear is all that she knows, all that she understands. I see her cry, I see her paint, but in this darkness shall be no mercy.

She is my addiction, my desire, this want which has killed all good within my soul. I take what is mine, I break what is left. She shall know true passion, true love by a man who yearns for that bliss, that touch of light which only angels can provide.

I may be cruel, and I may be evil, but so is the rest of the world. We live in a broken, fallen world full of lust, greed, and violence. I must let go of what is right and what is wrong. I must take this woman and forget about the laws, about god, about myself. I must enjoy the moment and give into to my desire, this want that has made me a monster.

Forget about her happiness, and only think about what is right for myself. Without taking her I would die, as she is dying, dying in mind, soul, and body. She is my salvation, I am her reckoning, and together we complete one another. With each passing moment, her heart grows faint, it grows cold and without life. I have taken this woman in every way a person could take someone, and in turn I have pleased myself.

I am a killer, I come out of the shadows for blood, I come to fulfill my twisted desires. Slowly, she dies, gently her eyes shut, and I have lost all humanity. I have no regret, I have no remorse. I am just another soul out for blood, as we all are. What is a man if not doomed to look upon the face of true beauty?





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