Zombification
I ... can't ... even ...
I now realize convincing you you're not stupid
uninhibited you from any of your self-doubt,
subsequently allowing you to make enough copies of my poem to
successfully put one in every locker, and both of us out.
Unprecedented; I didn't think you were that ...
I know by now how much you hurt over this;
my pain doubles yours, doubles you over.
Suicide, indeed.
Murder-suicide to be precise. And I
don't even ... Because I read your poem? Because
you couldn't handle ... when I said it
would have been difficult for us to date?
There's so much I could say; none of it's worth it.
... Excepting:
You kind of gave us no option, so,
what the hell, let's go for it!