If I Ever Say I Love You It Will Be Politely
I'll never say 'I love you' to another woman.
Those words that burst first time so full, deliciously,
of joy, of gratitude at the sharing of an act of 'love'.
I don't seek, or long to hear, those same words said to me.
I don't know, have never known, I think,
their meaning.
But once said they must, at any opportunity,
be repeated until devalued to worthlessness.
'I love you', for each Christmas and every Birthday.
For Valentine's Days, 'I love you'.
For Wedding Day and First Date Day, ' I love you'.
For First Day of Joining in Mutually Consensual Sexual Intercourse,
'I love you'.
For Saturday nights, 'I love you'.
For ironed shirt or sewed on button,
for apple pie or ruined roast,
for diddums snookums burny finger,
'I love you'!
And then, when one has been angered,
or hurt, been brought to tears,
we make it right, with, 'You know I love you.'
You know I love you?
When cruelty of word or deed has cut so deep?
You know I love you?
But, if those words, withheld by truce, are never spoken once,
they are never spoken to excess.
Never spoken to where one has heard it all before.
To where one thinks the other said uncaringly,
'I love you.'
Or even worse, that it was they, themselves,
who lied with their, 'I love you.'
When those words are withheld by agreement,
by will of tender truce,
then no longer does lazy, thoughtless,
carelessness of, 'I love you',
suffice for depth of feeling, or
'You know I love you', for remorse.
For those words become the way of apathy
and, when refused to glibly uttering tongues,
must be replaced with something else.
With something, surely, more full of caring.
And, whether by a difference in glance or touch
or tone of voice or smile or kiss,
replaced with something from within.
With some thoughtful thing, perhaps,
of meaning.
poem by Red O'Mara
Added by Poetry Lover
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