A/N: So, we had an assignment in my creative writing intro class to write a poem from the perspective of someone who wasn't us, and when "comic book character" was listed as an example, I knew one hundred percent that I had to do something Harley related. This was the result.
Love comes in many forms and I
can't help but think that this one
is superior to all others; that pain
and pleasure are so interlocked
that our romance is of the highest
quality.
A fist, balled up, within a purple
glove, striking my cheek, sends
chills down my spine and
smears of white grease paint
on the glove that I was lucky to
be punched by.
A yank on blonde pigtails
sparks a feeling I had never
experienced before I met him
and in return I gently stroke
those wild green locks
I love so dearly.
A bite on my shoulder is
probably my favorite type
so therefore what I get the
least of, but sometimes I am
graced by those beautiful teeth
clamping down.
A pinch or a slap or a punch or
a kick, harsh words and shouts,
neglect and insults, all should be
terrible, but I know that our love
would not be complete with them
and thus it is perfect.
I first started wearing face paint
and a full body costume for the fun
of it, but now it is just to hide all
the bruises.