You're not honey. Your'e wine. You're the deepest, darkest shadow under a tree on a blazing day. You're strong and hard, coursing like a current at the bottom of a river.

I feel like a fox in a henhouse full of Catholic girls.

I don't love you. But I see the value of you, the incredible worth of you, more than anyone I've ever known.

I-just want you. I want you so bad, all the time. I know I shouldn't, I know I can't, I know it's wrong... but even when you're pissing me off, when you're reminding me of pain and despair and torture-it's there, the wanting. I'm tired of fighting it. I fight so many things, all the time, every day. I don't want to fight this. Not anymore.

You're not honey. Your'e wine. You're the deepest, darkest shadow under a tree on a blazing day. You're strong and hard, coursing like a current at the bottom of a river.

Everything is fine and bright. Day must follow every night. My power keeps me safe from harm. The Goddess holds me in her arms.

But I also meant that loving someone really opening your heart to them is just asking to have your heart smashed and handed back to you in little pieces.