I didn't want to love you.

Is that wicked of me?

My love would be more cruel, trust me, I'd be saving you if I didn't.

My love would only harm you.

You're holding my heart, I know you have the power to rip it out, you're already half way there.

But if you let go you'll see the blisters on your palms.

So perhaps ripping it from its cage would be your sweetest revenge.

That's okay, I deserve that.

And I love you.

I don't want to.

I shouldn't.

I don't want to but I do and I know I can't stop.

I lay you gently on the cold dark ground.

I feel like I'm dying and I love you and you're gasping into my mouth and it reverberates through my hollow chest.

I love you.

I hate it.

Love is killing me while you kiss me.

Same difference.

Your tongue is your weapon and you tear me apart - biting - blowing - inhaling - unwinding.

You're murdering me and you don't even know.

I push and you pull and your spine is digging into the ground and I'm sure it hurts but your moans are from pleasure not pain and you whisper my name - Abraxas.

I'm dying and I love you.

The flame of the hearth is no match for the heat between us yet I still feel that leeching cold bite at my skin.

Sucking - draining - undoing - killing.

Is that your doing or the leeches?

I love you.

The statement wants to rip out of my mouth like an obscurus and devastate the whole city.

Do you know?

I wonder if you do.

You clever little witch, you seem to know everything. Do you know?

Do I want you to know? - no, I don't.

If you do, it might kill you as well.

There's only enough room left in the soil for one of us and I knew it would be me before you.

Riddle talks of immortality and I never understood till now.

I don't want to live forever, no.

But if I could grant you such a thing I would, if I knew you'd be happy for an eternity.

I love you and I think I'm dying.

It feels like it.

Abraxas.

I pick you up, holding you gently in my arms yet my primal instinct drives into you further - deeper - harder - rougher.

Your back hits the wall and it caves in before softening and you're crying out, your lips are swollen, I can't breathe and fuck-

I love you.

It's a declaration I don't think I could ever voice even if I were a Capulet in Verona.

Pain had always been my love language, I realize that now.

No wonder all who got too close got singed.

You deserved to be handled with care but I fear my hands aren't steady enough.

The trauma makes them tremble and if I hold onto you for too long you'll drop and shatter and I'll be the one to step over the glass - delighting in the sound of you being crushed underneath my feet.

Your nails dig into my back and my spine vibrates and everything is just you - you - you.

I can't breathe.

My chest is hallow but you're warm and you're invading me and it hurts.

I shudder at the realization -

You've burned the heart out of me.

Ophelia, I love you.