this word love, heavy with import, alternatively, falsely called out too breezily, diminished by over-usage, till you admit it doesn’t fit like your formerly fav pair of jeans
stretched, too many stains, cut for a different body, a different soul, a different existence, a former you
so when the mind and mouth glimpse a synchronized synapse, and just ‘bout ready to let the “L” bomb slip past the guardians of your own galaxy, you nick time, modify it to a moderate, but yet fulfill your need with a differentiated four letters.