I don't hate you, but sometimes I want to rip your heart out from your chest and hold that pulsating organ in the palm of my hand. I want to see your eyesyour bright blue eyesstaring up at me fearfully, filling with shiny, graceless, pointless tears. I want to hold your heart in my hand forever, knowing that you know just as well as I that from this point on, you are mine, and mine alone.
I want to tear apart your chest and grab that beating heart, feeling the warm blood pooling around my feet, the delicious red staining my shoesand my handsfor the rest of forever. I want to stand in that crimson pool until the end of time, knowing that you will never be able to look into anyone's eyes other than mine, that you will never be able to hold anyone's hand but mine.
I don't hate you, but sometimes I want to kill you and lock you up in a room somewhere far away, knowing your dying eyes will be staring into mine forever, your limp and lifeless hands holding only mine. I want to feel your cornfield hair under my fingertips forever, always within reach, because you know, just as I know, that you cannot run away any longer.
I want to watch your struggle as you try to run, try to fight, knowing that you can't, because resistance is futile and you cannot control fate. I want to hold your frail, struggling body to a wall, and eat your heart straight out of your chest, seeing your helpless and pitiful struggle, knowing that you know you can't do anything to stop destiny. I want to watch your pretty lips whispering words weakly, coughing scarlet, breathing your last.
I don't hate you, but if I can't be you, I must have the next best thing.
I must have you.