8dc04c7df42e708a10dfd23af7d6f2f1--palette-knife-beautiful-paintings

His fingers rest -for what it seems to be an eternity- on her delicate neck. So pale, so tender and fragile, what a sweet temptation for his egocentric fantasies. To rule her world.

He smiles. The sweet sound of surrender when he takes her closer, so close that their shadows become one and she’s nothing but an extension of his strong body.

Leaning over, he kisses the pale, cold body of hers, and whispers something they only know. Is it a promise? Is it a request? Is it a plead with destiny? The kiss was shallow, but his eyes hold flames of passion and unspoken desires.

He takes her in his arms and she trembles under the hungrily touches. To discover, to create, to break boundaries and to find harmony into this chaotic sounds of love. This is his aim, this is what he does best. She’s helpless, but she never was a prey. Always his goddess.

Her whispers becomes screams and the screams become music. He feels redeemed by her undying need for more. His own need -to be the ruler of this fairy tale kingdom of hearts- is fulfilled in tears, in agony, in desperation, in ecstasy.

He’s tired but the shine in his eyes is undeniable. He kisses her neck once more before gently laying her pale body next to him. He reaches his hands to the sky in a silent prayer. A gesture of gratitude.

“Thank you, Father, for I am blessed with Your gift.”

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And the crowd is calling his name, again and again. Their ovations are loud and honest, since they witnessed an act of love.

And my heart is broken.

He finds me and takes my hand. I’m cold and I’m trembling.

He looks deep into my eyes. He kisses my fingers.

A little girl gave him a red rose. He puts it in my hair. The crowd cheers his gesture louder and louder. Their voices are sincere, since they witnessed an act of talent.

“Say something, darling, this silence is becoming awkward.”

And I am mesmerized.

“Make love to me like you did with her…”

“What? Are you drunk? I was in concert all morning, in front of you! You insecure, crazy, jealous witch!”

He takes his violin and leaves me there, with his cheerful gallery of fans. They’re laughing, seeing my tears streamed face.

They are right. They witnessed an act of betrayal.

 

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9 thoughts on “Mesmerized

  1. Wow, this is jagged and unusual and I like both! Good to see you (in what feels like) a bold experiment, to try something ambitious…a good model for anything we do…keep going!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. β€œSpanish guitar” by Toni Braxton…it was on the radio while I was writing…”I wish that I was in your arms, like that Spanish guitar, and you would play me through the night…” so, combined with a friend’s love story…this is it πŸ˜€ The theme is a bit overrated, but I wanted to try it anyway 😊 Thank you for being here, my dear friend!

      Like

  2. Oh what a wonderful view….I feel her crumbling heart at his bitter words….’You insecure, crazy, jealous witch!’ All she wanted was the scene she had just witnessed before her very eyes….what had been so exquisitely portrayed in front of the crowd…to be endowed upon her as well. Was that really so much to ask?!?! The scene itself gave me chills my friend…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. She used to watch him playing and she secretly dreamed to burn the violin…in therapy she realized that she needs to burn a bridge and to set herself free from this toxic relationship.
      It is a real case (not mine, thanks God), one that touched my heart deeply.
      Thank you for feeling so accurate her description of pain…
      Hugs you tight.

      Like

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