slender necks, i think.
your fingers, black with soot, writhe at your sides. i know you are anticipating my next move, sizing me up.
you are no bigger than a breadbox!
but somehow i know better than to underestimate your razorwire wit, the poison in your tone. your teeth and claws are the least of my worry.
no fangs can lay into me the way that your words have.
oh, to love a monster. to love that which knows only destruction, which knows only the destruction that love brings. your best intentions have left me more scarred than your worst, i'll admit.
it's hard to love you, to endure this constant struggle, this teeth-bared-eyes-gleaming-muscles-twitching sort of affair.
but it's harder not to.