Sometimes I Just... Want To See It

Sometimes I Still Forget To Look For The Gentler Parts Of Her. For So Long All I Saw Was The Strength, Standing Out Like The Wiry Muscles In Her Arms Or The Black Ink Marking Her Collarbone With Flight.

How Is It I Know This Little About The Boy Who Says He Loves Me-

What Makes You Different, Makes You Dangerous.

Don’t Tell Me You’re Going To Eat A Mashed-potato Sandwich

I Wonder If This Is How Is Is With All Evil Men, That To Someone, They Look Just Like Good Men, Talk Like Good Men, Are Just As Likable As Good Men.