So it seems Bukowski didn’t actually say that. Still, it’s a powerful sentiment. Here’s the full quote, by… whoever:
“Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.”
The point remains though; the things we love own us. That’s the trade-off in loving anything or anyone.