Faegan: Torture

I am chained to the table.
I watch, chin almost pressed to the warm wooden surface, as choice morsels are passed from hand to hand, but never to me…
No one seems to be eating, while inside me there is a hole, a black vortex of longing and hunger that even if I were to receive a dish of some delicacy and consume it in its entirety, I would not feel a breath of satisfaction.
I try to look away, tear my yearning gaze from the feast before me and escape
Break away from this spread of temptations, heart so heavy I must push it along the floor, arms straining with the weight of its frosty bulk.
But I am held back.
Caught
Chains stretch from my sore wrists to the sturdy, unyielding legs of the beast crouched behind me.
I can feel the heat of its exhale, smell its savory breath as it laughs through glistening teeth at my desperate attempts at flight.
Table, chains and heart hold me back.
And yet…
My mind yearns for freedom.
My back aches, arched from the struggle against containment, throbbing with the stiffness of forgotten, unspread wings.
I bend my stiff neck, let my sweat-sweetened forehead kiss the cool marble floor and long, wearily, for the restful nothingness that once cradled me so tenderly.


Faegan, image and poem are (C) Deviantartist Kabudragon. Do not use without permission