Ire

He muses she is prettiest when she is angry
her nose round, her back arched, stiff fingers
clenched teeth which he playfully devour
trying to ease her kissing her fingers one by one
He pounces at her when she is in that mood
but she fights him, hits him, pushes him away
He is patient with her, perhaps he knows
that she wants him to try and win her
the more difficult it has been
the more it endeared him
to conquer, to vanquish
she loved his strength, his fight
it was her thing to make him try
wait and want her more and more
When she flashers her smile
he hugs her with affection
like a petulant child he puts her to sleep
sometimes tiring her out with mad love
other times warm and secure with poems
her tears always shattered him
he wants her to be angry or gay
He urges her to be angry
even if she is not merry
For him…
her rage was her passion for him
her outrage was her laugh for him
her annoyance was romantically taunting
Enticing him to be a bait forever
for the Captain Hook of their ship

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s