But not 'I love you.'
Any three, comforting, kind
yet cruel words other than 'I love you.'
because I love you has been tainted,
tainted with the distant cries of
in love with you.
Of the connotations
and the the lack of patience
that is;
'I'm in love with you'.
'Cause I love you was no longer casual, no longer friendly nor comfortable.
I love you was filled with
'why? why? why?'
and 'why nots?'
and kisses
shhh
not kisses -
not lips,
not touch,
not soft,
no whispers.
No 'I love yous,'
no 'I love you toos,'
just 'I'm here for yous'
and 'you're important to mes.'
And the painstakingly similar;
'I need you'
'I need you too.'
But not love,
never love.
Even in the midst
of a warm embrace,
or the brush of a hand upon a face -
no I love yous could be found in this place,
Not here.
Just confusion,
uncertainty, and fear

when you touch me,
imaginary insects flutter through my being,
my belly almost bursts with the overwhelming sensation.
when you smile,
the butterflies can't stay still,
they fly around my body, fluttering and floating as they soar in circles within my fragile frame.
sometimes it feels like there are thousands, ready to rupture through my skin and swarm around you, they seem quite fond.
and it feels like they've always been there,
perhaps once caterpillars, as all butterflies start,
cocooned inside a chrysalis within the depths of my heart.
until one day, I met you and they bloomed like spring flowers, springing from cocoons,
their petal wings spread and created an unique feeling of simultaneous warmth and nervousness.
you said you feel them too, the improbable insects deep below your skin, within your core.
does this mean we're in love,
or just friends with butterflies?

soft white petals
slowly open with the sun
its rays and warmth pleads
the wary flower to trust
and reluctantly it does
and yellow yellow yellow
greets the sun

I wish to be the sun and one day see the yellow of your heart

people come into your life and grow on you like wild flowers.
sometimes they grow upon your skin, present but not deep,
others will grow so so so far down, their roots will rupture your skin and wrap themselves around your brittle bones.
eventually growing through the vena cava of your heart, reaching deep inside the vital chambers.

and these people, no matter how hard you may try,
you cannot rid them from your heart,  they will always be there, growing deep inside of it,
feeding off the oxygen in your blood. even their flowers and foliage may wither with time but their roots will always exist, the blood from your heart running through them.

you will never cease to love these people,
for to pull out the roots of these flowers would rip your entire heart out of your chest,
and though that might hurt less than the roots these people may leave,
the only possible result is death.