Recently, I have been noticing how easily people freely give away the word love. It baffles and amazes me how simple it is for them to just toss that word around like it is nothing. And I am envious. I don't think I have ever been able to say I love you without my heart doing a little hiccup. Or my brain putting up a billion red flags and sounding every alarm. Because once you say anything, it is out in in the universe bouncing around in the universe forever - eventually bouncing back to where it came from. Maybe I am crazy and paranoid- —that is OK. And for all of you crazy and paranoid people out there afraid to say the three little words that start with an I and end with a 'u' — this poem is for you.

I can’t say I love you—

I can say heart you!

to my friends

I can say wear your seatbelt!

to my little brothers

I can say thank you for changing my oil!

to my dad

And I can say drive carefully!

to my mom

But

I can’t actually say those

3 little words;

I love you.

Not because I am incapable

of loving people

or because I have

a rare speech impediment

or because I speak

a crazy foreign language

But

because you ruined

the most beautiful words

in any language for me

You took the I

and the love

and the you

and you scrambled them

up like a couple

of farm fresh eggs

And now I can’t differentiate

wear your seatbelt

from I love you

and I can’t make my

tongue and lips and teeth

form the words I want to say

because you stole my breath away

and never thought that I might

need it again

And I couldn’t make you say

I love you

even when I loved you more than

smoothies

and poetry

and bananas

and shoes

and oxygen

So now I can’t say

I love you

either.