Scary

Scary,

That is the aura he exudes.

Scary,

That’s what he’s going for.

Scary,

He’s scary,

As he swipes bullets from the table,

Loading the gun,

Quickly, efficiently,

Not once looking up.

Scary,

He’s scary,

As he glares around the room,

Running a hand through his pitch black hair,

Mussing it out more than it already is.

Oh, he’s scary,

With the way his eyes harden in a split second,

Turning cold and steely,

An odd spark in them,

As though contemplating where to bury you.

And he’s scary,

When he’s walking down the corridor

Built lean, but tall,

With a presence so big, so overbearing,

That giants flinch and slink away.

Scary,

It’s scary,

That’s intelligence, that precision,

Which could fell a kingdom,

If it wanted.

Scary,

It’s scary,

How the entire Family survives,

On this intelligence, this precision,

Which is powerful enough to destroy,

Should it so wish.

Scary,

That’s what he exudes,

Walking down the hallway.

Scary,

He’s scary,

Because he chooses to be.

Scary,

He’s scary,

As he needs to be,

But not to me,

Never to me.

Because yes, he’s scary,

As he needs to be,

But in the end,

He’s mine.

Scary,

He’s scary,

To the world,

The way his job demands.

But to me,

He is, and forever shall be,

Anything but.

To me,

He’s 19 and awkward.

To me,

He’s tentative hand holding and adorable bunny smiles.

To me,

He’s nervous declarations of love and unplanned vulnerability.

To me,

He’s gripping hugs and forehead kisses.

To me,

He’s passionate loyalty,

And hot lips on mine.

To me,

He’s comfort, security, happiness.

To me,

He’s home.

Scary,

That’s what he exudes,

Because he protects the Family,

And it is a demanding role.

Scary,

That’s what he shall remain,

For as long as life holds on to him.

Scary,

That’s what he’ll be,

Scary,

He’s scary,

But not to me,

Never to me.