Dark hair. Dark eyes. Dark soul.
All you need is the wings, and you'd be my perfect guy.
But maybe, I'm wrong.
Maybe, you have wings. They're just hidden.
You tell me, I'm just not seeing your wings.
All I see is the person, who is like my second in command.
I could imagine your wings. Black, like the night sky.
Long, about ten feet wide. Feathers, like a ravens'.
I imagine this, and other things.
Besides that, I imagine you, holding me, tight in those wings.
You lift me off the ground, and kiss me.
Every kiss is just as beautiful as you, lifting me off the ground.
I tell you you're beautiful, and you tell me, "No. You're beautiful. I'm just a guy with wings."
But you're more than that.
I might not always have you, but you're my perfect version.
Of Fang.
You're my Fang. My one and only.
And I love you, Fang.
