The simple words "I love you..." fall so short
Of all the things I wish them to fulfil
That every syllable amounts to nought
And I wish I'd just let my tongue be still.
For what's the use of all the things I say,
When my soft spies betray all that I feel,
And everything that's real is on display
Inside these eyes that nothing can conceal.
Yet still the sound of 'Love' upon my tongue
And that word with the sounds of 'I' and 'You'
They change the air that passes from my lung,
And make it bless the lips if passes through.
So even though it's only words and breath,
I'll keep saying "I love you..." till my death.
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