Snakes Loving Daggers
Instead with passion, anger you distill-
A pointy, sharply witty kind of charm.
You glare the daggers wishing looks could kill,
But loving you rebounds this wistful harm.
A kiss dear mudblood shames naught of my face:
Thy lips are rubies to my conq'ring tongue!
That scowl shall change when fingers interlace,
We'll share our breath combined from lips to lung.
I know that under hatred and despise,
There's willingness I see within your eyes.
