How could she do this?

I'm back at the beginning
With your face running through my mind;
This tension racing through my body,
And a feeling;
An amazing feeling pacing toward my swollen heart.
It's love; make it hurt?
You grab at my lungs,
And pull at my soul.
Is this a fairytale?
No dear, this is what you see in the movies.
She's perfect nevertheless;
A fault is a disease that she will never catch.
She makes my whole body ache; am I dying?
I must be; without her this life is useless,
And not worthy at all to continue.
So, tell me am I sane
Or insane for loving someone this much?
I'll tell you about her voice,
And how delicate sweet it is;
It echo's through your ear
Like birds singing in the wind.
Now you tell me whose voice is worth the listening?
Her eyes are beautiful,
And not at all impartial to the human mind.
Is it wrong
That her beauty makes the morning sunrise
A disgrace to heaven?
No, it's not wrong at all;
Blame God for making her
The perfect creation of all.
I'm sick of this thriving feeling;
Its tearing at my heart, will it ever stop?
How can this girl create so much flinching,
But at the same time create revolting pleasure?
I'm in love, and I can feel it rising off my chest;
It's suffocating me whole.
How could a whoore do this?