"yes, My love"

Yes, I’m dying. I can feel it in my blood, in my veins and in my bones, as I felt it before. But this time is for real… isn’t it? “It’s always my love…” Why do I call myself love when I can’t even bear my image? It’s all about image, isn’t it? “Yes indeed, my love…” Why? Why do you call me love? I wonder if it’s because we’ll be partners till the end and you just gave up on hating me. Is it love much different from hate? Cause I don’t know if I love or if I hate. I do feel for sure. Well… at least, I know that, don’t I? Can I die happy now? “Yes you can… my love. C’mon, lets go.” Can I just say something before we go? You have the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard.