There is a heaviness in my chest, right at my sternum.

This relentless ache.

Please let the costochondritis not be back.

I may be a masochist but I like being able to breathe without agonising pain.

This is because of you.

Your sorcery, your spells, your bewitching brogue and spellbinding eyes.

You've cursed me.

Or have you blessed me with your fascinating presence in my dreary life?

No. This is none of your doing. For it is I that falls too quickly, lands too hard, fractures too many bones.

You want me for BDSM, I want you for Naught But Love's Sake.