( a drabble about. literally nothing much. )
i had known what had to be done. i had known i was meant to treat it gently. that my love was meant to be soft, caring- like a gentle breeze under fall's gaze.
but i had never known to be gentle. i had never learned softness. i was a weapon- and do with me what you like, but you can never ignore my intended purpose. what i was trained to be.
you could not ignore the scars i bared. you could not ignore the sharp edges of my gaze. you could not ignore the fact that violence was all i had ever known, and it wasn't something i could unlearn.
i loved, though. i did. but my love was not sappy, nor sweet.
it was violent. dangerous. the exhilaration of standing on a knife's edge or grasping a sword, not sure which side was facing you.
i was not gentle. i was not kind. you knew this. and you knew i couldn't, or wouldn't, change.
so why, pray tell, did you expect me to change for you?