I do not know if I write as a form of bemusement or just a way to torture myself. Well, I do not know why I write these things. "Whatever are these things you speak of?" I speak of love and I write of lust unencumbered by guilt or suspicion. I will tell you a tale, a short, simple, sweet one that never happened but in the quiet halls of my heart. I awoke one morning with her nestled into me and I knew that the world was quite right in it's ways. For me anyways. I lay there for 45 minutes thinking and not wanting to move, not wanting to end this moment, and certainly not wanting to awaken my queen. With every principality though there was an original "royal" blooded spouse, and that was I, HER King. I had no subjects, I had no noblemen, I must admit I had no Magna Carta equivalent either, but I had my queen. I see no point in describing her to you as I feel you can better place your dream into the holes my heart has so delicately cut out. Her face reminded me of a dream I once had and her smell told me I was home. This is all you shall know of her. I am a good man, a proud man, but often a lonely man. So in these glimpses of love when I get to drink a little wine and smoke a tad bit of life, I cherish them. I cherish them more than memories of my childhood. Let us be thankful my brain has so much space in its attic, lest I fear my past may have already been long gone sold for a nickel a memory to small kid who got dragged along by his mother. I take the metaphor too far, careful Mitchell, lest you lose this dream.
She finally awoke, eyes cracking slowly to let the sunshine seep in peacefully. "Good morning my angel." is whispered with a kiss on her forehead. "You're too sappy, you know that?" she sighed resting her head again on my chest. "I know, but I have you now, allow me my romance while you'll still stomach it." I won't specify who said this, because at times I feel it's not me. I offered to make breakfast and dabbled it with a bit of innuendo, please let me scramble yours eggs one last time before I have to face the world out there. There was nothing to do today, I had planned it so. She had nothing to do today, through planning or chance smiling on me I'm not sure. So we held each other. Asked the day to wait. It did so patiently.
I woke up again and there was no one there. My sheets smelled of home and there was nothing but a dream lingering on my pillow. Please let me sleep some more, won't you wait for me day? It did not. The day faded into books, papers, and the feint sound of a festival on the horizon. The night arrived bringing with it a mockery of my situation. I wrote this in my defense of the night, but even these words cannot fully fill the hole so affectionately cut, only you can do that my dear. I am a good man, I am a proud man, but I am often at times a lonely man.

In the absence of security you make your way into the night so that the following morning you can love again a new queen.

Your metaphors are quite good and your writing is excellent.

I need not jab at the focused material to say this.

And I feel as though I've read a book intro.

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