This is how you make your readers cry: after ephemeral eruption of volcanic love, you have to let me die of, say, cancer, leukemia or other non-curable diseases (no HIV please); or die from a car accident, a tragic one. Remember, “I” need to die cleanly, in other words, it is not romantic for being a cripple from a messy accident. Think about it: that would leave you a dilemma as to whether to abandon me altogether or finish off me. But I am open to a thriller option too...