when my  "i love you"s
thrash against the cage
of my throat
i wonder who i am protecting:
you or me?

it's such a crafty thing
managing to escape
when i thought you couldn't hear me

tell me,
could you feel it in
the press of my fingers on your chest,
the heat of my tongue tracing your lips
?

i guess you could because
when morning came
you
were

*gone