It's been said that love kills.
But it's a beautiful death, ta have somethin worth dyin over.
Nothin is more bittersweet than when it's yer lover that twists th knife.

She calls me beloved. I 'm hers, she's mine.
No one can hurt me like she can.
No one loves me like she does.
How could they, if they knew what she knows?

Eliza Dane Back