Do not fall in love with me.
I will give you so many roses that their very touch becomes poison ivy. I will kiss you at every beautiful place, every park, every Paris, so that you can never go back without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
Your dreams will be fraught with me.
I will spoil you with jewelry—cut on metal grinders: violent, erratic sparks you mistake as passionate, erotic sparks. Vestis facit virum, so I will transfer styles, brands, and tenderness. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible, though you cannot help but urge me.
And when you wake, you will finally understand how daydream-dressed nightmares can make you feel whole, why hurricanes are named after people.
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