People wonder why I love him. Love a miserly, ill-tempered bastard. Hell, half the time I have no fucking idea why either. Maybe three quarters of the time. But when I do know, I know it's true. And nothing is truer. I know that I love him when he gets so fucking mad he his constant verbal abuse just can't cut it and he takes a swing and knocks my fucking head off. He may wait a while to simmer, he may drop to his knees and pick me up right away as if he wants to reattach me and repeat the action, but either way he always puts me back together again. He could leave me. But he doesn't. It's him that holds me together.
And there's so much love in that fist.
Between you and me, I think he likes to pick up my disembodied head. Freak. But once, he kissed me. I don't even know the expletives to describe it. I think it's a "had to be there" moment.
People wonder why I love him. Love a fanatic, foul-mouthed bitch. Hell, half the time I swear he's making words up. Perhaps three quarters of the time. But that's what I find attractive: that he can express his anger in four letters, no blows, no bloody scythe swinging. Four letters. Or maybe it's when he ticks me off so much I wish he were mortal just to have the satisfaction of wiping him from the face of the planet forever because he doesn't annoy other people. Not like he annoys me. He goes out of his way to make me miserable.
Me.
And I should be cursing his name as I lie in bed remembering every little thing he did today to make me twitch, but I'm smiling to myself hoping that he'll annoy me tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Forever. We're the only two who can honestly say that we'll have that long. So I smile as I lie in bed waiting to hear my door open and feeling the burning in my chest I call "a synonym for affection". Other words are too cliché. And as my door is squeaking open, even though I know it opens smoothly if you don't yank down on the handle, and he shoves me to the side because he "needs more room" and makes sure his damn cold feet are touching me, I tell him my feelings.
In my statement is a synonym for affection.
And he sighs, "Fuck."
Then he answers.
And in his reply is a four letter word.