Devils we call lovers

Maybe devils are people we call lovers — the ones who are our weakness, our mistakes, the ones we lie for, the ones we would kill for. I have done the most foolish things for love — a little feeling yet it shakes crowns, collapses empires. My king — you reign in my heart. Please, do not overturn the skies above my head. Kiss me slowly — I want this moment to last, for tomorrow you might not be mine again. Death is waiting. Haters are watching. The world is ready — ready to snatch you from my arms. I can't fight this. I won't win. I know. Still, I love you. I don't know if you love me. I am vulnerable for you. I am sacrificing for you. Kill me gently with your love. Drown me in the sea of it — I am ready. What haven’t I given up for you? My dignity, my health, my insurance, my safety, my beautiful sleep, my lovely kindness, my truthfulness, my virginity, my future. I withhold no religion, no god, no principle, no law. I am just a foreigner in your land, an outcast in your mansion, a slave in your chambers, your prostitute. I am stripped of myself when your eyes pierce my soul, staring down my confidence and composure. I am weak when you hold me. Nicholas... heal me.