As we part one night,
I catch myself about to say
“I love you”

Words I’d said to her countless times,
but words I hadn’t spoken
since that night our lips first met,
since familiarity turned to yearning,
since we went from friends to lovers,
since I fell in love with her.

I ask her then,
“When is an ‘I love you’ different?”

She looks into my eyes
as we stand in this empty parking lot,
a puzzled look passes across her face
before a subtle, limerent smile takes its place.
“I guess it’s different when it feels different.”

“It feels different. I love you.”