Who am I

To love you? 

I brush my fingers

Along shimmering skin

And wonder

How could such kindness

Exist within the confines

Of a human shell?

How could I

Be worthy of such 

Sweetness 

When I am immutable destruction,

Crackling spirals of sharpness,

My tongue laced with razor-wit and 

Simmering with venom? 

I am not sweet, I am 

A burning ocean of night

The unmitigated, broken disaster that is 

renewal

I am devastation immaculate;

An angel burning 

with blood on her hands. 

How could you choose this 

sharp-iron, cold-sickle crucible 

Of a girl? 

Sometimes I wonder if you are settling. 

Why would someone

So perfectly intelligent, so 

Inexplicably kind

Choose someone whose

Razor edges and dark streaks of decay

Never leave her speech? 

You say you like my wit. 

My fire. 

You call me gorgeous and I laugh—

and ask if 

you need glasses like I do. 

I am proud of the 

Dark iron of my soul 

and the way my eyes 

spark with a sapphire blaze when

I create; destroy; live. 

I control my own destruction and

I am proud. 

Still I wonder how someone 

So untouchable as me 

Would charm someone like you—

But I will savor your 

Ill-judgment for 

Just a little 

Longer.