The dungeon stones cracked and defiant to its residents
singing the story of a night, unclad in silence
His will turned to her mandate and his voice to her lifeline
Deep within knowing she longed for it , begged for it, cried for it
yet it was incomplete..
His hand gripped the leather and his eyes held her captive
another, to hold her postured as the leather marks its territory
Slow and subtle was his hand. gentle to accommodate her threshold
and eventually the pace caught up to his brutality and her skin screamed in scarlet
His words stern and senseless in the moment as he called out to her
It was not her name that slipped from his lips as the color changed in his eye.
It was of another, where now she was merely a proxy to his passion, an alibi
She did not care she did not flinch, and received him with a content grin.
Each welt accompanied with the words of his origin ” O skylos mou, E..”
She could not understand his lingual outrage , and responded in currency of her tears
yet his hand choked and took her life through the tunnel of her fears
His eyes saw her barely as a doll. pretended to be the One who lays beyond his brawn.
One that ends, and another that begins.
the passion of his touch , reaching beyond through the screen
One the original will never know and another the proxy knows too much
either way his rage always finds a way to reach the one intended for.