She throws her "I love you's"
out in the world like
it's a simple hello.
Often and careless like
gum on the sidewalk.
She mutters them
with every goodbye
as I shuffle in my seat.
"I.." "you too."
I keep my "I love you's"
hidden in my jacket pocket,
even when I mean it
and she doesn't.
They're locked behind stammers
and stutters,
and strange insecurities.
I keep my "I love you's,"
So few.