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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1089758
Unable to break free of your hold.
The Visit


The night had slipped onto the silent brink of morning as the moon emanated false light from its surreal height in the sky.

I, shrouded in my realm of dreams, was immersed in the river of light that was streaming in though the glass veil above my bed.

I dreamt pleasant things, so wonderful that I thought them to be real, and never imagined that I would wake from my subconscious world––

Until a slight wisp of an angel’s wing pulsated the cold air. In slow motion, my eyes rose open to reveal the darkness around my bed.

As I realized my current state, I looked to see an onyx figure standing in my doorway, and even though his face was concealed in shadow, I knew who stood in my room.

“I’ve missed you, “ I whispered. “Where have you been?” You said nothing as you slowly advanced toward me; I still could not see your face.

You glided over to my bedside, the moonlight illuminating your hand as you stretched it forth toward me and begged me put my hand in yours.

I smiled and instantly obeyed your wordless request; you pulled me up from my lazy comfort, and onto the cold, frigid morning floor.

You said nothing, still, as you held me for a moment, and I felt panicked with anxiety: “You have finally come to tell me that you love me!” I bravely exhaled.

It was then that I noticed the object you held in your opposite hand: a blade you were grasping moved and glimmered in the moonlight.

I immediately tried to turn away, but I was unable to break free of your hold. You raised your finger to my lips to gently silence them, to calm me, to assure me.

My heart-pace slowed, my breath steadied, and I surrendered to your captivity, all while you held me tight and raised your weapon.

I felt the cold metal of the knife pierce my skin, slowly, gently, and layer by layer, the blade pressed deeper and harder into my chest.

With every passing thrust of the knife, blood flooded and pooled on my skin, mortal anguish seized my throat, stinging my eyes and forcing tears of disbelief.

I cried out and squeezed your shoulder with my hand, digging my pain into you, but you soothingly, reassuringly uttered a delicate, “Shhhhh…”

When I thought the blade could go no farther, it was then that I felt a final slice, then a heavy, jumping halt inside my ribs.

I glanced down and could no longer see my thick blood pulsating from the wound, my mind went placid, and alas, the moon illuminated your smile.

I looked back to you with wide eyes, and you pulled me closer to your body. You held me briefly then began to lead me back toward my bed.

As you laid me down (to leave me there), I opened my mouth and said: “Thank you. I can never get enough of that feeling.”
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1089758-The-Visit