People say it's love if your heart skips a beat when you see the one you're destined to be with forever. Mine skips several and a little warning message appears in my mind, telling me to get away from you to a safer place. I guess it's love.
Everyone says candles and roses are very romantic. You threw the glass candle holder at me the other night and you shoved me down in a rose bush when we first met so the thorns would tear up my skin. I guess it's love.
All my friends say I look beautiful in purple and that black brings out my pale skin which illuminates my stunning blue eyes. You always make sure I have black and blue somewhere on me, trying to make everyone see my beauty. I guess it's love.
I've read that your lover should always be honest with you and that they should never cheat on you. You tell me I'm a whore, skank, and slut, to protect me from dressing like a hooker and you don't cheat on me since you refuse to say we're dating. I guess it's love.
It's an unspoken rule that you're lover is supposed to know things about you. You know exactly what time I get to work and should arrive home so you know if I've been off disobeying you. I guess it's love.
Now, as my skin grows cold and my eyes lose focus, I don't understand why everyone's crying. I don't understand why the police have metal handcuffs on your wrists and are shoving you out of our apartment. All you did was love me, I know you did, so I don't get why everyone is so sad. I can die happy, because I was loved.