And, I Fell

I Loved Her

Belle was hot headed.

She never was a afraid to tell me off. And, she did it regularly.

Like clockwork.

Every time I came home, she would find something wrong with the way I put down my coat. Or the way I slipped off my shoes. Or put up my umbrella.

But, I loved it when she was angry. She was beautiful when she wasn't.

But, when she was angry.

Oh. She was alluring.

When she yelled at me. When she beat my chest with her fists.

And, I didn't mind it when she did. Because at the end of it, she would retreat to our room. I would follow. I would hug her and kiss her and tell her I loved her and hold her more.

I would hold her often.

When she was angry. When she was sad. When she was happy.

She loved it when I did.

I loved her.