[ He's quiet for a few seconds, head shifting in time with unspoken thoughts, before he settles on: ]

Perhaps.

[ Very helpful. Very based on no actual experience. ]

I have never lost anyone to death. Only to life. Incompatibilities, arguments, other people. Problems that would still be lying in wait for us on a second attempt. But if something outside of us severed a thing that was otherwise good— [ That's what they're talking about here, right. ] —then maybe I would.

[ He tilts his head and smiles a little, prompting. ]

But you love your poet, too.