Last Christmas, I thought maybe, just maybe, you'd be the one to break the three-year curse. I had my doubts, sure I did, but I had my hope too, which I didn't have for anyone else.
Maybe it was just a pipe dream. A vain try at changing that which is set.
And maybe I'm the poison, for it seems the only constants in this curse are my eventual loneliness, and your disintegration.