Don't you dare speak those words.
You know exactly what they will do,
and to him.
There will be no more
you and him.
Like the peach blossoms
broken from the delicate, young branches,
the verbal hail storm,
the weight of the ice,
will knock him to the frozen ground.
Unsure how much affection he can return,
of how his own whirling thoughts fit with yours.
Your tale, far from fairy, will end.
Your open heart will shrivel,
like the salty sardines you left on the wooden picnic table
in the burning sun.
You will regret your thoughts and
you will regret your feelings,
but know, sadly, there was nothing left to do,
but leave too soon.