short stories

He loves me

He loves me.
He keeps telling me he does.
He wouldn't do it if he didn't,
I'm sure.

He just has a different way of showing it.
A little unorthodox
He's really not that bad.

Besides, it's only a little scratch.

Nothing at all really...

He's only bad for a little while.
Just a few moments and it's over.
He just has to let it play for a bit.
It really doesn't hurt that much.

I understand.

It's okay.
Deep down I know he cares.
I just have to lie there for a while,
And not cry too loud.
Purple isn't as bad as it seems.

He always says he's sorry.
That he didn't mean to do it.
And it's okay.
I love him.

He must love me

Why else would he say he does?