Tigers

Now, I know why tigers roar. If I could push you at the center of your chest, instant, without reflex, with enough force to push you out of balance. Force equal to what pushed my heart out of balance. Then, I think I might feel like I'd given something back. To reciprocate this jaded anger and this short circuit of rage that has been forced into my body. I work these muscles for you, my arms for your eyes, my shoulders for your mouth. I will make you want this. I'm not even certain passion exists within you. Or if it exists within me. I have fire in my fingers, and my heart is a torch against my rib-cage. Your backdraft blows at the flames in my heart as you walk past. You do not deserve the love I give. In slow motion, a turn of your head to remind me you're still smiling. And in that moment, if we were animals of a different breed, I would lunge for your neck, open mouthed, spitting with the viciousness of a tiger to rip your body apart with claws and give my eyes a rest.

But I smile back, ask how you are and in the time it takes for your condition to slip past your flat teeth, I come to know why tigers roar.