Imagine rehearsing the hardest goodbye of your life. That is what the speaker does here, picturing a final moment with someone they love: a long look, a tight hug, a held hand, tears. The short, broken lines feel like halting breaths, as if the speaker can barely get each sentence out.
What stands out is the guilt. The speaker keeps saying sorry, because they believe their love is somehow the reason the other person is hurting. They ask to be pushed away, even yelled at, so that hearing "I hate you" will make leaving easier. It's a painful wish: the speaker would rather be rejected than linger and cause more harm.
The mood is raw, tender, and heavy with sadness. The plain, simple language makes it feel like a private confession rather than a polished performance. By the end, the speaker whispers one last "I love you" and calls the person a soulmate, which makes the farewell feel both loving and final.