Abbie's poem is about a relationship that never quite got its chance, and the small word "but" that keeps getting in the way. Each line sets up a wish and then undercuts it: they want to be together, but it's too early; they want to repair what they broke, but it's too late. They were in love, but they weren't meant to be. The timing is wrong in both directions, which makes the situation feel stuck.
The speaker seems caught between tenderness and frustration. When "my love" asks how they can go on like this, the answer is only more explaining, until "but" becomes a word he hates, since it always comes before a letdown. The ending is the sharpest part. Instead of a neat "the end," fate leaves the story hanging on "but," an unfinished sentence. The word "hilarious" sounds bitter rather than amused, a shrug that covers real hurt. The overall mood is wistful, rueful, and unresolved, like a conversation cut off before the last word.