My Bride

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The happenings on the first night as newlyweds.

Submitted: February 02, 2015

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Submitted: February 02, 2015

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I feel her laced touch against my calloused skin.
My breath catches as I realise 'tis no longer a sin
for my Bride to love me as I love her; violently
the hearth roars, spitting as we kiss silently.
Her legs flail beneath me, her raspy moan
as I claimed what was now my own.
My Bride calls my name, I recoil internally.
She asks not much of me, just love eternally,
which I give her. My Bride's hair falls through 
my fingers, slumping on her bodice new.
I unlace her, savouring each lovely cross,
saliva giving her lips a sensual gloss.

I can refrain no longer, ripping fabric away
from her pale glow, leaving dark hair astray
and tasting the liqueur on her lips,
and sinking my nails into her hips.
She winces; I pull her to my yearning form.
Shouts of pain. I am sure this is the norm.
Her fists pummel my bruising back,
I decide this is going too far off track.
Her lovely eyes widen as I produce the blade
flourishing it as she screams for aid.
I etch her expression into my mind
when a thought struck me most unkind.

Wine runs down her, which I start to taste
as My Bride's colour drains with haste
and metallic sensation teases my tongue
I stroke her ribs across each rung.
Her body stains with pretty, pretty red
which I smear across her innocent head,
blood lingering on my tongue forever,
I throw the knife behind me wherever.
My nails seep into my bride's warm thigh.
Exhilarated, I let out a satisfied sigh.
My Bride lays just there on the floor
and is now mine forevermore.

 

 


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