Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

Just Three Little Words

Saying I love you hurts me

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
— Pablo Neruda

Just three little words…

What’s the harm, right?

I love you the way the ocean loves the beach, kissing it subtly and privately, when no one is yet awake to walk the sandy shores.

I love you the way the birds cherish the changing of the seasons, as they migrate on to the next path of their lives — as if innately.

I love you the way a martyr believes in something so direly, he can’t stay alive to keep on fighting.

I love you the way the Sun loves the Moon, rotating alongside the gravitational pull that’s all too inevitable but almost, as if by choice.

I love you.

Uttering those three little words is too much for me.

I mustn’t say them, lest I die inside my shell of a life from when I last said those words, but to someone else.

I shan’t allow myself to fall in love again, as I look down the path of yesteryear but also, as I look toward the future of broken heartache yet again.

I can’t tell you I love you, because I’m not strong enough to carry the what-ifs of what’s yet to…