im sorry i say i love you too much.
sometimes the moment
winds itself just a little more such
that the feeling needs my mouth
as a conduit for its expression

but perhaps ill spare my words--
to be thrifty in these exchanges
of uttered affection blurs
not the feeling's existence:
the butterflies are still there,
but shall manifest themselves elsehow,
as hugs and kisses strewn
across the skyline of the ever-forgiving night

surely i wont stop saying i love you...
but the instances i do shall
flaunt a heavier shade of red
once i save such statements
for moments unmet
in vibrance, strength and
their capacity to lend our cheeks
a palette of bright rosy hues.