I am so frightened of you sometimes.
You have such control and such sway over me.
You know some part of me is sweet and compassionate,
that I'll always be available to listen,
that I couldn't push a person away and especially not you, you scoundrel.
You would take my heart
and crush it into dust
to be sprinkled in my eyes as a final insult.
You would accept my love,
slide it into your back pocket,
and then use it to make yourself more charming so that more ladies would line up.
You're a bastard and a scoundrel.
You're mean.
And then, very rarely, I see a glimpse of you that makes my heart leap with hope.
You stare at me just too long,
touch my arm or say my name,
and I let slip those memories of being held and being kissed,
they slip to the forefront of my mind and my being and I am without knowledge,
I am below the stars and it's raining and you have given me life with a smile.
I do not even need kisses.
I only want smiles.
Being touched by you and kissing you means so little. You would freely touch everyone and you would freely kiss all women, if it were allowed.
And then you bite my neck,
and I remember that you are a manipulator,
a cursed filthy bastard that only wants me for his ego.
I am your prize.
You are a scavenger and I am your prize, and you will eat me or mate with me if literature has anything to say about it.
You would have me for your supper if only I could cook and prepare myself for you.
You would devour my existence and my blood and my body if only no one would know it was you.
You are a thief.
All my thoughts are of you and that makes me sick.
I would be your supper,
sweet and divine and swallowed whole like a snake consuming rats or lizards.