Darling, tell me what makes you break my heart?
What makes you enjoy my turmoil? When I wash my hands in your fire, what makes you enjoy the smell of my burns? What makes you calm looking at my efforts to pull my hands out of it? What makes you grin at my screams? And, when I drown in your sea, what makes you comfortable looking at the chills that run across my body? What makes you breathe victory when I gasp for breath and what makes you smile bright when my sights have blurred?
The fact that you stand where I once stood. The fact that I went through the same questions some time ago. The fact that what breaks you is something that broke me.
The fact that I enjoy watching the world burn because that’s what’s left of me. Because the joy of being broken demands a sacrifice of inflicting pain. For the king who was once happy, now craves for a broken queen. And yet after all this, we’ll not be together.
We’ll simply be two broken people unknowingly breaking others, trying to create our perfect soulmate to not fall in love.