Loving you was like a car wreck in slow motion.
You saw everything through the eyes of someone watching from the outside in.
From the eyes of someone who would never understand.
Loving you was not tasting your mouth, but every word inside of it.
Loving you seemed to be agonizing, like watching  paint dry, expect the paint is made from my blood and my hand is on my chest, trying to keep my heart from falling out of it.
Loving you was the blood from the barely beating ***** seeping between my fingers.
Loving you was when I finally let go and heard it fall onto the ground and the paint finally dried and I was dead.