i love you ;

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i love you,
i say, and my voice cracks with the weight of the words. how can three little words, sound so heavy on one's tongue?

i love you,
i'm not used to saying this. i don't love. i don't know how to love. i don't tell people i love them, because i don't. but i love you. god, i love you.

i love you,
i scream and cry with a bleeding throat, i love you, can't you see that i love you? i could cut open my chest and write those three little words on the white walls of your bedroom with my blood, i could imprint them on your skin with my chipped, broken nails, i could kiss you senseless with this pounding in my head, i could write it on papers and tear them up, i could write it on myself and pull my flesh out, i could trace it on your skin with my tongue. i could carve them into my forehead and stand infront of you until my legs gave way and i collapsed, i could hold your wrists, bite your neck, while breathing it against the hollow of your collarbone - those three little words

i love you,

oh but no, not everyone you love
would always love you back

and i learned that the hard way

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