*The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.*
I love hard
I love like a boxing glove loves connecting with a jaw, or my jaw.
Or My love loves connecting with me sometimes that she forgets to wear the gloves,
or get a referee,
or let me know that we are playing this game.
I only know to play along when I hear the bell ring,
or if there's a ringing in my ear from her love taps and she's in that love me stance.
That stance the world ALWAYS misinterprets
The world says that stance means I'm the enemy
But they don't understand our language
In our language that means she's about to give love to my heart
like CPR, so open up and get ready for a pounding.
So open up and take my heart that is yours,
nothing about our love is Taxidermy
it is as true as purple is for royalty
or purple for my skin every time you show your love for me.
This is not abuse, she's not a tornado and i'm not a Kansas home
She's only testing my foundation
Separating the weak parts from the strong
That's normal right?
For the first time i'm doing something normal right?
Thats why we tell our sons to Man up right?! we punch our sons but kiss our daughters.
I'm just doing what i'm told:
Risk it for the biscuit
Do what boxers do, sway with the punches, don't resist
Others say what if this is abuse
I say love is like any drug, and what's a drug without its side effects.
When we lose consciousness together at night, that high is worth all the burning sensation retaliation words I build up in the back of my throat like weed.
When we are alone and I can finally inject her in my system heroine, the track marks she leaves after loving me is the best part cause even when she is gone I can look down at the marks and feel the love all over again.
My love is the only drug I need, it hits hard but....
*Thats the way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist, its all fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.*