I latch onto instability. I attach myself to precarious cliffs, crumbling rock and unravelling roots.

Unstable people, flight risks, make my heart stutter and gallop. 

I need you if you are dangerously broken. I must immerse myself into the stories of your scars. I too wish to acquire my own stories by the bullet wounds your own jagged, splintered edges give me.

I crave a dooméd love.

I am worthy of being the wreckage you are.

I give you the honour of taking everything from me.