I want to stop saying things like,
“I love you”
Because I am afraid they will lose their weight.
My love is not simply for the sake of poetry,
Of having all these feelings.
I get it,
it’s easy to see why that could be the case.
I am so fixated on extrapolating on every detail,
of your dimples,
of your hazel-flecked eyes.
I understand why this seems overplayed.
Sometimes, I hate how I can only seem to write love poems.
They call me a love poet,
Say I sing songs of romance,
maple syrup memories dripping out.
But remember,
I have a gap in-between my front teeth,
makes it easy for the words to escape.
But you, my love,
You are wrong
if you think my forgiving heart
and compassion for strangers,
that I love to connect
and give hugs,
means this is everyday occurrence.
You are wrong
if you think that when I am talking to my friend
about you,
And she looks at me
and says,
“Shit, you really loved him.”
is everyday occurrence.
If you think it is not a big deal,
You don’t understand what it means
when the love poet finally lowers the shield
and realizes she’s in love.
Realizes this isn’t prose,
Not just dog-eared books from the library with her favorite quote.
It is a deal
that is bigger than the miles we now face,
and space,
and hole in the back of your shirt the night of your birthday.
Do not underplay what that means
for me
to love you.
I know that when people are in love
they always say,
“You are the first person I want to see when I wake up”
But I don’t think that about you.
I want there to be time
in between
The drive to your place,
The walk from where I park
to where you stand.
Nothing has ever made me quite as nervous
as when I see you again.
And my eyes will dart down to my feet.
Because I’m afraid you can hear my heart beating out of my chest.
Shit.
I really love you.
It is a big deal.
For me
to
really
truly
love you. 
