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.