Make Love to Me My Bride

He enters the room
With mystery and poise,
To see her sitting on
An old wooden bed,
All dressed in satin.

Her face pale; yet radiant,
her hair long and wavy,
she sits in quiet reflection,
as he slowly comes upon her.

His eyes full of magnetism,
his hair as dark as night,
he reaches out to caress her
in hopes to bring her closer.

He runs his hand through
her lustrous hair, then gently
down to rest on her shoulder.

Her beauty captivates him,
only to then be confused
by her continuous silence.

She sits with a smile
Looking into his eyes.
The distance between them
is closed as he places his
hand lovingly upon her cheek
gently moving up across her ear.

Wanting a smile his hands
move softly back to her cheek,
then flutters across her lips,
and down her delicate neck.
The look she has in her eyes
causes him to begin to smile.

He kneels down in front of her,
her eyes follow his movements.
His need for her controls him
as she remains to be silent.

He begins to undress her,
removing her long flowing
white gown, kissing her gently
as it glides to the floor.

Then he drops her slip
and slowly guides her
back onto the bed,
she is so beautiful
he must kiss her again.

Their kisses intensify
as the passion between
them begins to build,
creating a union of flesh,
Making two, into one.

The heat of the moment
burns into a roaring fire,
their connection falters,
leaving them trembling,
as they each fall away,
drifting into gentle slumber.

As the broken beams of
the mornings dawn,
pierce through the
windows, he is awakened
with a startling feeling
of intense horror.

His chosen bride is gone.
He slowly crosses over to her
She's silent and motionless,
dead upon his royal robe.
Her dainty wrists slit and
her neck all covered with
dark red blood.

A note gently laid upon
her breast and written in
a very delicate hand,
"You ordered me to be your bride,
but you can never make me love you."