I have had boys who devoured me,
ravaged me – wouldn’t even look at me.
I expected you to be the worst,
the most animal among them,
with your ice cold hands
and your ice cold heart.
What used to make me cry
was the memory that you might not be a monster after all,
when I remembered the feeling of your lips pressed softly to my collar bone.
And the gentle strokes of your fingertips on my hips,
How our hands would collide in the middle of the night,
I would fantasise;
You were just the beast in a fairytale
waiting to open your ice cold heart to my warm hands.
I would watch the icicles thaw,
watch you shed your thorns.
Slowly, you would fall in love with me
and give me the happy ending that I was searching for.