Love isn't typically part of my vocabulary when it comes to men. If you are a man, you will never hear me tell you that I love you. I will sign my letters "luv" or scribble a heart above my name. I cannot say "love" to you. The word is reserved. I don't know for who. I don't know when or if it will ever come out of my mouth. I feel it sometimes. I feel it sometimes so much that there is an ache somewhere inside of me. And not letting the word come out makes the ache stronger. But as is with most aches, it goes away. I let it pass. I let it go. It goes away. And I get over it.
Backspace...backspace...backspace...backspace and its gone.
I imagine that if the word were to ever escape my lips it would be a spillage. Bright red letters flowing from my mouth onto my pillow and pouring into your ear.
And I wonder what would happen if those words spilled into your ear. Would they make it from your ear to your heart? What would happen? I don't know, so I don't take the risk.
We are laying in bed. I say to you, "Its been a really long time since I've had my heart broken. Like, really REALLY broken."
You say, "I would never break your heart."
"Its okay. I'm ready." I say.