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"Darling, what makes you love me?" The question is so simply stated, in her purple velvet voice, as she reclines in his strong arms, and lets the bittersweet smoke caress their limbs, pulling them closer together.

His long inhale, as the toxins coat the soft tissue of his black lungs, is audible, as he mulls over the question before answering.

"I love how you can make insanity look beautiful." He states, recreating the day he came home, in his mind. The day he found her telling stories to the static on the television. The day he started to question if his joking label of "crazy" may possibly ring true.

"I love how I can tell when you're having a nightmare, from the twitches in your toes." He continues, remembering just last night, when he was roused from sleep by her whimpering, and kissed her shivering feet until she, too, awoke. How she recounted her dream of bear traps and forest floors, and screaming children, and how she thought there weren't enough adjectives in the world to describe the horrible feeling that nestled in her stomach.

"I love the days when you don't take your pills." He confesses, knowing that they make her happier, but that she never seems herself after those little pink pills slip between her lips. Medicating perfection seems like a mistake to him, though he'd never admit it to her.

"I love how you wear too much makeup." He carries on, glancing down at her eyelids, drooping closed to reveal garish smears of tangerine and turquoise. He'd always seen the world painted in monochrome, but the batting of her eyelashes changes that, as if she throws a spark of light into a dark room, with every glare, and every glance.

"I love how you're nothing near perfect." He stops, realizing however harsh this last declaration is, it's nothing but the truth.

She glances up at him, head cocked slightly, and fatigue ringed eyes expectant, waiting for him to carry on.

"But mostly," He says, voice too hoarse from his smokes to be a whisper, "I love how I don't want perfection. I want the crazy girl, plagued with nightmares, that's sitting in my lap, wearing only crimson lips and smoke rings. I want you, just the way you are."