Held Captive By The Joker

Last night I was held captive by the Joker,
in his bed.
No, I wasn't afraid that I would wind up dead.
When he told me that I wasn't going anywhere I
didn't tense,
when he spoke to me in that deep, raspy, terrifying
voice I didn't flinch.
I know that it was quite illogical for me to have
felt the way that I felt, but in his dark embrace I felt
perfectly safe.
I knew that he wasn't going to hurt me in the same way
that he knew that I wasn't going to flee.
It was just me and him,
me and him indulging in the most sensuous of sins.
He kissed my lips,
with his attentive fingertips he gently caressed my hips.
I never knew that being with the Joker could feel like
this.
He was psychotic, but still deeply erotic,
if anybody could have seen this they would
have found it entirely ironic.
In the morning he told me I was free.
I didn't want to leave,
but he told me that of his innocence it was the
only way to convince others to believe.
And so I left, but I wasn't relieved.
I wanted to be the Joker's prisoner
forever and never did I ever want to be released.