You know just what to say, just how to look at me, to tear me to pieces.
I feel like it's a gift you possess.
An exceedingly rare one. Nobody else has ever made me flame up inside just with a simple look,
a simple touch on the wrist.

On those days when I hate my very existence,
when I doubt that I should be the one at your side,
you have only to draw me near.

Even with your tender words of love,
promising that I am the most,
the best,
the greatest,
my self-hatred burns me up inside until it shows on my face.

You kiss it away and tell me sweetly to prepare for my destruction.
And I come willingly, for destruction is a beautiful word when sitting upon your lips.