I loved the sound my heart made when it broke ---like a sweet harp lullaby so i danced
I am addicted the memory of her scream; "I don't need you anymore" ---sounded so lovely
I melted at the cracking sensation of my ice cold lips ---when her warmth walked away
The hell smell of my burning soul when she walked away felt nice
So, my lady love...
Would you break my heart for me too, Please?
Masochism; state of ability to find pleasure when humiliated or afflicted with pain. So the bleed of my heart funds pleasure in writing about the word.