Last night you told me you loved me,
and my mouth went dry,
vomit rising in my throat.

It's that same old story all over again.

I didn't know what to say at all,
so what I didn't say amounted to far too much.
And for what it's worth,
I'm sorry.

We decided to sleep on it,
though I didn't actually go to bed
until well after midnight.
It felt as if I wasn't breathing.

Those words, those words…

It's really not your fault, you know.
It's just me,
afraid that my romance novel tragedy of a past
might swallow me for good this time.