For Sam. Happy Christmas, love.
He is the only
dragon
you have never been able to tame.
His
w.o.r.d.s.
are as sharp as razor blades.
He l.a.s.h.e.s out at you
(but you bite back)
He's fiery and fierce and stubborn
(and you wouldn't want him any other way)
You fight
constantly.
Him with his quicksilver, knife-blade words.
You throwing barbs right back.
(There's a fine line between love–hate)
(You and he insist upon blurring it)
You {love3 him
precisely because
he doesn't baby you.
He doesn't p.u..l...l his punches
He doesn't soften his blows
He's rude and he's honest and he's real
and you love him for that.
Some part of him loves you, too, you think
And for much the same reasons
You fight back
You don't baby him, either.
But you accept him.
Unconditionally.
After all,
he is the only
dragon
you have never wanted to tame.