Evening Ripping

you like my hard skin and you like
my crush, my angry
you like the space between us and
I like the way you let me
write my scary stories across your
back in blood

I like that you like
what no one else has
looked to like

you say you are afraid you are
going to tear my petals
off, or pull me into a frenzy
from which I would not soon
recover

(and I'd like to think I am
  not quite that fragile, but
  sometimes perhaps
  I am)

but then you bare your teeth
when I hate you, and I mean you
bare them in a grin
and I am laughing too
and we spend the evening ripping
each other's throats out

and I like that you like
me when I'm not
pretty, not
sweet, but
terrible
and strong
and gnashing
and spilling purple ink
across your skin

and I like what I see
in the mirror
when we are done