Maybe I'm just addicted. Addicted to looking for love, letting it touch me, letting its flame burn though my icy heart. But only letting it melt me enough to leave deep scars. Feeling that which could help me most, but made me this way first. Caught in a cycle where your love is all I need, I cannot get enough, and I love to love because I love to hurt. So won't you be my reason, my reason to let myself fall apart tonight. And won't someone just hurt me enough to make me give up, to never put the pieces back where they should be. Just run my hands through the shards of my own shattered sense of being. Letting each piece deeply cut my hands. The hands that once held you, but also held the razor. Knowing that some cuts are deeper than can be seen, some bleeding never stops. I'm the victim of my own love of pain.