You might be
Bolder in black ink,
But your heart still bleeds red

He was my rose

Beautiful from afar

However,

I'd always bleed

After touching him

Throw rocks on my car
and spit curses in my face.
I'll sharpen my teeth for war,
getting ready for the chase.

I'll cut you and let you bleed,
for all the times you've broken me.
I won't listen to you plead,
but laugh in your face with wicked glee.

My teeth are razor sharp,
and I've put on my war paint.
Trust me, no angels will play the harp,
when neither of us have claimed to be a saint.

I've never been a damsel in distress,
no I can fend for myself.
With claws for nails and rivets on my dress,
you brought this upon yourself.