๐’๐“๐€๐‘๐“๐„๐‘๐’ ๐…๐Ž๐‘ ๐ƒ๐€๐‘๐Š & ๐“๐Ž๐—๐ˆ๐‚ ๐’๐‡๐ˆ๐๐’

 


You don’t want me to have anything in my life that’s not you.

You think you’d be happy with someone else? No way. I’m it.

I’ve killed for you. Who else can say that?

I’ll kill the whole bloody lot of them until you and I are the only people left in this world.

What have we done to each other? What will we do?

But the horror, the horror was for love.

This love burns you, maims you, twists you inside out.

It is a monstrous love, and it makes monsters of us all.

You lied to me! You poisoned me! You told me you loved me!

I love you, and it’s killing me.

“I hate you” – “No you don’t.”

You’re killing me slowly.

I love you so, I’ll eat you whole.

Sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine.

Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.

Something ugly in you, you also saw in me.

You ruin anything you touch, and destroy anyone you love.

You are coming down with me, hand in unloveable hand.

You say that you love me but you act like you don’t.

Imagine our children, how fucked would they be?

Don’t you know I’m no good for you?

When it’s going good, it’s great. But when it’s bad, it’s awful.

Your temper’s just as bad as mine is. You’re the same as me.

I know this love will tear me to pieces.

I loved you enough. You just never believed it.

Why can’t you just let me go?

We have been each other’s prisoner for a very long time.

You said that you loved me with your knife pressed against my throat.

I’d probably still adore you will your hand around my neck.

Our love is a monster, plain and simple.

I loved you as Icarus loved the sun: too close, too much.

Loving you was the most exquisite form of self-destruction.

It terrifies me what I would do for you.

There’s a difference between really loving someone and loving the idea of them.

We weren’t ourselves when we fell in love, and when we became ourselves – surprise! – we were poison.

We complete each other in the nastiest, ugliest possible way.

I would never kill you. Not in a million years. What I can do - what I will do is hurt you, worse than I did before.

You make me feel, and I don’t like it. I want it to stop. Now.

You are the knife I turn inside myself: that is love.

I say I want you inside me and you split me open with a knife.

If you love me, you don’t love me in a way I understand.

We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It’s feral.

There is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me.

Love isn’t soft, like those poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.

I need you to be a monster. Which is to say, I’m trying not to love you.

Kiss me. Kill me. Do something.

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