"You're going to love me , because it hurts to love me. When it's 3 am and I promised to call you at 11, you're going to curse my name. You're going to swear that you will never let me touch your skin again, while touching your own skin remembering how I felt. Three days,  and you haven't heard my voice. You're going to feel as if I were merely a dream, an unworldly angel that could have never been real. You'll scold yourself, and feel slightly insane when I call and ask if I can come lie beside you for a few hours. You're going to love me because I'm fucking three other girls, and when I slip under your sheets and let you touch me, you can taste them on my skin. You'll make snide comments all the while wondering if they taste you as well. You'll wonder if their veins hurt as yours do every time. You will love me because I've ditched you all morning only to tap softly on your door at God knows what time. You will stubbornly stay put, promising yourself that you have too much pride to answer. But, after the third tap, you'll find your feet gather a mind of their own. As do your hands, as you unlock the deadbolt and pull me into you as if I'm your favorite pain. You will love me because of the pain I plant in your veins, that grows one with your blood cells until the only thing you feel is the tragedy of who I am. And you will love me for it, even though you wake every morning with no trace of me to hold you together. You will love me because you feel like I am holding your sweet innocent bones together. Too blinded to see that I am ripping them apart, too overwhelmed by complete infatuation to care. You will love me because I don't care. Because if you didn't answer the door, I'd crawl into bed with another girl who's eyes are probably prettier than yours. Who's hips are just a tiny bit smaller. You love me when I'm right beside you ; but I believe you'd love me more if I wasn't there at all. It's eight months down the road, and my presence under your sheets has declined. You're grasping onto false hope, and your lusting for a touch that will burn you in the most poetic way. You will love me because I am fire. I spread across your existence like a plague, and fill you up with sins that I am too cowardly to hold on my own. You are going to love me for my cowardly ways. You are going to love me because I am your favorite sin, the kind of sin you wouldn't dare ask forgiveness for."