You say that you love me
and yet you make it seem like coral reefs
have fewer faults than I.
You say that my eyes are like
your favorite pair of blue jeans
and yet you purposefully rip holes into them.
That I am the most beautiful flower in the garden,
and yet you pluck me from the soil,
and I wither.
You say that you love me,
and yet I want to tell you,
that love is more than clandestine love letters
and sharing umbrellas in the rain.
I want to tell you that love is not just made up of syllables,
and words that sound nice.
I want to tell you that love is appreciation;
that it is acceptance.
And sometimes love means letting go.
So next time you say “I love you”,
I will accept the gift and say “thank you”,
but I am tired of mistaking
Venus flytraps for daisies.
So next time you say, “I love you”
I will be gone.