Baby, it's the way you whisper, "i hate you," like nobody else can, as you plant your lies and kisses, and your touches that feel like love, no matter how much i know they're tricks.
it's the way you fuck-start my mind and jerk off my heart and love me in the most explicit way there is.
i smile as i kill you with your own words, and if i could photograph my hate reflected in your tears, i would hang that picture above my mantel, i would send that shit out as christmas cards, i would glue posters up around the city so that everyone would know about my broken heart and your broken promises and this entire broken fucking world.
your candy hurt smells so good as it rots holes in my soul, and your breath tastes like miracles as you moan your pleasure into my mouth. we'll melt tomorrow, puddles of hostility and unanswered murmurs.
but the moon wouldn't be there if it didn't want danced under, and God wouldn't have made angels pale if He didn't want them to blush, so let's lust, let's be pure in our sin and honest in our deception.
let's live wrong, because nobody knows how to do it right.