I love a man who is really two men. One man loves what he despises. 

A man sees my frailties as strength.  He sees me as weaker and gutless. 

 He is not the man I want. But to deny him is to deny the man.   

The man holds me with care while he fucks with my head.   

My heart wants the man, but my intellect knows he is there. 

 The man is contemplating my thoughts while he is obnoxious. 

 I hate him yet love that man at the same time.   

 Flawed is the man while he is perfection. 

He wants to fight, but I am in a stillness. 

 Quietly still.  I muse why the man thinks he is right.