My tongue
drips venom
or honey
depending
on the hour
mood
season.
My snaps
of frustration
lead moments
of sweetness.
Screams laced
with forgiveness.
My fickle spirit
invites you and
like a fool
you say yes.
Your masochism
proves you aren't so perfect,
which makes us perfect
for each other.
I'll never find another
that I can hate
and love so deeply.
You are the key to complete me,
and that keeps me
from swallowing
you up whole
to fill the holes
that they left in me.