Wear black much?

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He asked as if it didn't need answered.  He asked whether I had been wearing it since a young child.  He simply doesn't understand.  I wear black often, these days, if more as a lark.  And... even he should know.  Yeah, he has to know.  I've told him if he doesn't want to see, don't look. And yet he sees, which means he looks.

No, not that or anything odd.  Different?  Yeah.  But not odd.  I have been doing since before most two legs can, let alone know to do so.  Innit mother?  Yeah, you know.  Which is why you stopped asking, doubting.  You know.  You dug up my first, screwed up the courage, and asked.  Now you do know.

Combine this and that and you will know.  Like it?  No.  But if you are she you will love it.  Women are far more wicked and hungry than men.  They mean it, too.  If we don't handle them they will... destroy.  Themselves, us, everything.  And yet so few are even worth the effort.  Mostly.  Yes, add these two together and it makes sense.  Or... you will understand my nature.

Oh, I understand.  Most don't understand.  Women can't.  They are simply hungry.  Many men don't understand, for the price is too high.  Only those who knew that the price is a choice can really bother to be willing to know.  And so it was.  Heck, as much as those two terrify the world in general, I terrify them.  So be it.

Yeah, she is on my mind.  She means it, but she is still quite afraid.  Good.  Step a little closer.  I'm right here.  Afraid?  Yes.  Just not of what you think.  Fear them when they are playing, more so when they are serious.  And this one is terribly serious.

Nice?  She's on my mind.  Shut up.  Besides, I told you... I am no longer kind, as many seem to believe it.  And yet that is the key.  If she dares she will know, not a whim but a truth.  She will find out why not being kind matches the seriousness which she brings, abides, offers.  Damn straight.