Within Captivity – A Monologue

Is the fair maiden who lay before me but an illusion? If that so, then I dare not awaken, for to lose this vision of purity and perfection would only drive me into the arms of insanity and inability. She taunts my vision so, hair as radiant and beautiful as the mid-day sun, resting along her crown like that ball rests upon the heavens. Her porcelain set with the fairest of azure, peering into me and manipulating my heart into the most impressive of submissions. With skin like the softest snowfall and carnation lips woven into the most radiant of faces, I can only stare upon her with absolute still and admiration.

With the gentlest of touch I placed my hand on the top of her head, allowing my fingers the dexterity to move through the strands of hair, feeling the soft strands slip and slide between the pads. A soft sigh escaped my lips, my love, as I, in trance, allotted my mind to race with the precognitive thoughts that had begun to fester.

Alone, in the park, as the sun relinquishes his position in favor of his lunar counterpart, we stroll through, hands embraced. An evening long, of formality over the cuisine of a foreign land, complete with toast to health. A single day, special as it is for you, in which a long, white dress signifies an immaculate transition into the next chapter in the novel of your life. Oh, what mesmerizing thoughts. How truly mesmerizing…

Your strange-hold upon me is nothing short of miraculous, for no woman has ever gripped me within her clutches as you do, my love. How do you entrance me so? Yet, I don’t ever want a response to the reasons behind my submission for the feeling only becomes more enjoyable as the seconds tick forward, the hours become higher, the days pass, and the month’s transition. My love, there is not a high in this deranged, disgusting, and lunatic world that even compares with the beauty, radiance, and contentment you force upon me. My dearest, my fairest, you hand in mine, your eyes in mine, not a thing even comes close…


About Robert L. Franklin

Ah, the About Me section - social networking's excuse for you sounding like an elitist prick. Hmm... what to say? What to say?
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