Again.
For the third time in a row.
You really love her, don't you?
She really loves you back. I can tell.
It's in the way she looks at you- the blue in her eyes washing over you like a refreshing summer's rain, washing off any pain and dirt and agony and hurt...
It's in the way she touches you- gently, but caring, as if carefully trying to piece your broken heart back together.
It's in the way she won't stop texting you non-stop, twenty-four-seven, because, apparently, you're just so in love that you have to be connected to each other every single moment of the day.
Love.
It's everything between y'all.
It's everything y'all are.
It's everything that I have always felt for her and most likely will always feel for her.
Fair is fair, though, and the princess has chosen her prince.
I, of course, am not feminine enough to be a princess, nor regal enough to be a prince, nor even strong enough to be a dragon- as much as I'd like to swoop in and breathe fire to eliminate all her enemies, I lack flame and wings.
No, I am the outcast werewolf of the kingdom, the beast too dark for good but too light for evil; I am the beast that is shunned by the civilians but is too weary of the shadows to join the dwellings of the crowds that stalk silently in the dark.
I'm left outside the castle walls to beg like a sick puppy. I don't want your old meat, though. I want love. I want someone to take me in and say "There, there, it's okay: I love you no matter what you are."
The lights of the city shine away from me, unless it's the light off of the torches of men who want to slay me.
So I'm left to sit outside of the castle walls and beg for a prize that will never be mine, but, hey, wolves hope.
Treat her well, Prince Charming.
Treat her very well. I'll be watching.
And I doubt you'd want to evoke my wrath.
But even if I disagree, who am I to interfere?
She loves you, all of you, and I won't ruin that for either of you.
You won, prince charming.
Let's just hope you're worthy.
