For loving without wit or reason, completely and without mercy, until the sun devours us both. For the wrong kind of love, for love that sweetly burns, that kindly kills, that cannot last. For a love that’s like a soft knife, like a warm bullet to the chest, like water slipping through cupped hands. For the loves that are softly, deftly painful, that define, that subtly crack heaven and earth, that slowly sunder metal and freeze flame, and ultimately destroy everything in their path.

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