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