and to think that I wanted. I desired.
Oh but her need to function like me, simply now, something I used to detest.
And the way she exclaims when she gets pissed, the way that she is clear, that I am wrong and she is wrong and we are wrong and we are alright.
The way that she makes me hate her for only a moment before wanting to fall princess first into her arms,
she is tough, tougher than anyone who had kissed my lips before.
And I'm just a pretty fae princess,
I need tough. I need tough love. I need discipline, I need everything she gives me.
She gets how to deal with me.
She understand when to let me win, when to shut me up, when to put me in my place, how to.
And sometimes, for a couple of minutes, I called her names.
We fight dirty.
And then the makeup, the heart poor.
Where she forgives quickly, where I drive her insane, the way I feel her blood pulse when I don't calm down quick enough.
She keeps me in line.
The old me and the new me.
She gets it. She is above it.
And no, I don't deserve her, and yes, she can be harsh.
I bitch in the corner, feeling sorry for myself. Victim.
And she doesn't feel bad.
She tells me "You're fucking crazy, I'm fucking crazy, who give a fuck, Sarah? You're my bad bitch" and then thats it.
I laugh. Me.
You're okay with that?
You're okay with me being "a bad bitch"
and I tell you sometimes, I say,
You're an asshole, You are.
and you agree... and you call me a bitch. and thats okay.
because then you tell me all the things I need to hear, and my hands miss your thighs.