An "I love you" remains idle in the air collapsing after only so long
without mutuality and too humiliated to resurrect itself.
Infected with voluntary amnesia the index finger retires from pounding the keys which once enabled the mouth to relay daily sweet nothings, and so on. And the two who once were blinded by the ideal of being soul mates move on to tell the next how unpleasant the last was. And just overnight it seems.
