Refraction.

John.

He mumbles sweet nothings into my ear,
And they fall straight through to my heart.
I know that I mustn't - I shouldn't -
Lean closer, and yet I want nothing more
Than to breathe him in.
I have never smoked, and yet the taste of tobacco
On his lips feels so familiar,
Like I am finally home, finally safe, even though
He is the sort of man I was warned not to love.
He steals and he fights, and then lies about how
He bloodied his knuckles this time...
Yet, he puts his coat around my shoulders when it rains,
And says that I am the light to his darkness.
He gave up on the drugs, said he did it for me,
And despite how he behaves when he's out in the world,
He has always treated me gently.
Maybe he's rough around the edges, doesn't speak like the sort
Of gentleman that my father would want me to bring home;
Perhaps he's crude and coarse, and far too quick to pick a fight,
And I mustn't - I shouldn't - love him...
I mustn't and shouldn't, but my heart quivers when he says
That he loves me,
And I reply that I love him too.