I can't help but love you.
You are me but you messed me up.
I hate being here with you.
I just can not wait to pack my bags and leave you for good.
Yet I know that even when I'm gone I'll miss you.
But never will I miss you enough to come back, ever.
I'll move on to better things.
But you Alabama will always settle for the worst.

You will read a trillion words in your life time, so why say that you'll never love another book?
F. Scott Fitzgerald once said you'll never know the same love twice, or something to that effect.

"He left at the beginning of February"
And I left at the beginning of October,
I saw the way out.
When I left the cold followed in my footsteps and now you are chilled to the bone, shivers going down your spine and a pain that no medicine, or any love will take away.
And then he came back.

I want to bruise your lips and scar your hips, tear you apart from limb to limb and then put you back together again so you know what it's like to be broken.