isn’t time a funny thing?

the first time you said “I love you”,

you thought I wasn’t listening


sometimes I close my eyes in the

dark and quiet, I can still hear it

the giggle after- like you spilled a secret

over the kitchen countertop

and it washes over into the sink


maybe I remember it differently,

but I thought it sounded like your heart-

like a whispered love letter


what would I not give right now,

to stand right where you were

in front of the coffee grinder in IKEA;

you let me smell the beans after

I did not know then, why something so bitter

had the sweetest aftertaste


you were the best and the worst;

still, I wear the perfume you gave me

on important days,

keep your name like a good luck charm

on difficult ones


the first time you said “I love you”,

it almost sounded like a whisper-

if I didn’t like the sound of your breaths

too much, wouldn’t I have missed everything?


I closed my eyes and thought I’ve seen

the resemblance of your heart-

the fool that I am carried it like a truth;

isn’t time a funny thing?

how one moment ‘you love me’,

and another ‘you tried but you couldn’t’


I can still hear it,

all the times you took back that

I love you’ and replaced it with apologies


the last time you said ‘I love you’,

you asked me if I knew French-

said Je T’aime, if translated directly,

says ‘I, you love’

the fool that I am carried it like a truth

here to serve some passive aggressive poems
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