Disclaimer; I own zilch
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I know what you are, but I know of no word or name that encompasses what you are. Some - most - would say you're temptation in its purest, undiluted form, like the rest of your kind. A kind bred to call out like the sirens of sea legends, luring their victims into their awaiting arms to devour them wholly and absolutely. Your voice, your smell, your very presence calls to me, sings my name in a honey whisper song of temptation. Every time I'm near you, I can hardly breathe or think straight and to me, everything extraordinary about your kind is blindly magnified in you.
But you're so much more to me, so much more than temptation and I don't know why.
Why am I so affected by you and only you? Why can't I say no? What's in me to react this way, to allow me to think like this?
Maybe this is a magnified version of what Edward feels around me, or maybe I'm just weaker. Because you're my very own special brand of narcotic. Stronger, more addictive, than meth.
And I can't get enough of you.
My mind is afflicted by a plague born from you. I can't help but wonder what you taste like. If you taste as you smell. Or if it's even better? And then I wonder if that's even possible.
My hands, my lips, crave to memorize every texture on your body, every hill, bend, crease and plain of your skin. I want every inch of you burned in my hands, on my mouth, in my memories. I want the very essence of you tattooed on me, inked in my soul, for all eternity. I burn for you with an intensity that shakes my being to the core, that outshines even the brightest stars in all the universe. I'm caught in you, by you, and I know that you'll be the death of me.
I know what you are. You are the black hole of my universe.
And I am the light caught by your inescapable gravity.