Saying I love you leaves the aftertaste of a slap on my face
that's usually what came before.
A Slap
A Hit
An Insult
I'm sorry I wince when you tell me you love me.

You see,
I had to learn how to love without anger, to love and not expect hurt
I was used to love being a given, a word only uttered in the aftermath of a storm of fury
in the wake of too many drinks
in the brewing of war
I am used to making love a trade,
a card in my deck of hatred and revenge
I'm sorry if I ask you what you want in return
I did not know love was supposed to take care of you
to heal, not hurt
I'm sorry if it takes me longer than it should to tell you how I feel
To be honest, I'm not sure I love you means the same to me as everyone else
to me, I love you feels like every slammed door
every word ever spit at me in anger
every unanswered question
I cried when you first told me you loved me
I was ready for you to walk out already

I can't lie,
I'm still waiting for you to slam that door
throw my hand away in disgust
scream at me until you're blue in the face

I'm sorry if I take too long to tell you I love you,
I think I'm still learning what it means