You only want the pain my love brings, not the actual love. You want me to hurt you, to scar you, to damage you in every possible way. You smile when I tell you I love you because it means I won't ever leave, not because you genuinely want to be loved somewhere deep inside. You know that I'll rip you apart because you like it, you know that you can tear me up too and I'll take it and I'll love it because it's you. Because we're both sick, sadomasochistic people in every sense of the word, and we'll destroy each other and savor every moment, even though it destroys something inside of me that wants to stroke your hair and kiss your forehead and make you feel loved. The part of me that sings when I'm taking care of the mess I made of you, the part that blossoms when I tell you you're beautiful and you blush.
And then there's the monster you grew inside of me. The one that would rather ******* eat you than let you go. The one that screams and howls when you mention your last mistress, the one that wants to devour your heart and keep your soul in my ribcage. The one that aches because you only want me to own you when it hurts.

All of me aches, because you only want me when it'll hurt.