I don't have a title for this one yet

I am a symptom of love gone wrong. born out of words loaded with an ammunition designed to kill. there is no cure for my love that spills out of me like blood out of bullet wound holes. in this battlefield of broken love you are both enemy and ally, and I fear that I'll stop being able to discern which is which. like a bomb, I will explode with a fear of getting hurt that I kept at bay too long and we will lose it all. no true victor. only a battleground filled with the decaying bodies of all the broken promises and wounds I caused.