Kiss With a Fist

Fight me.

Hit me.

I dare you.

I am violent today; weeks of frustration and pain and rage and hurt bubbling over in a manic, almost-friendly sort of violence.

I am bouncing to Florence + the Machine's "Kiss With a First" and fantasizing about it.
About hitting you. Being slammed against the wall.
Kicking you. Your hand on my throat.
My foot to your knee.
Your palm sharp across my face.
The ringing in my head. The grimace of pain on your face.

The kiss that is 3/4 bite and nothing that resembles gentle.
The tearing of clothes, preceded by another bruise.
The slap of bodies in something like lust and something like hate and something like love that most aren't strong enough to give.