I love you. The dreaded words.
They cut me up. Sharp, silver swords.
It hurts. So very, very much.
A deadly pain. My heart is under its clutch.
What could happen? I'd like to know.
He could say he hates me. Or he loves me so.
Should I, or should I not?
Time to think. My brain's turned to rot.
I start to type. My fingers sweat.
I punch the letters. My face is wet.
I'm about to do it. About to press send.
This could be a start, or likewise an end.
The screen turns dim. The words start to blink.
This could all be built up or torn down in a wink.
Two inches away. With fate I shall meet.
I change my mind, and quickly press delete.