If you were a candle, I'd burn myself.
If you were a knife, I'd cut myself.
If you were a noose, I'd hang myself.
If you were the eighth deadly sin,
      I'd spend eternity in flame.
Instead, you're a human being.
      And I've never felt more pain.

Is it bad that I like the way your fingertips shock my bare skin like a strike from some unearthly lightning cloud? I can't help but think with the clouds accenting your rock face that you would be the perfect cliff to jump off of forever. Is it the eighth deadly sin to crave all of your strung-out imperfections to the point that I bite off my own ten fingers while crying your name? Tell me, is it bad?