Struggled to swallow the single letter before the two words.
Each letter sweeter than red-ripe strawberries saturated in sugar,
but doubt made them bitter as raw coffee beans ground into my throat.
So when all three words finally beat past my restricting lips,
I gasped and stretched my fingertips, trying to coax the words back into mouth but they resisted and settled in your mind, resounding in my ears.
Doubt seeped through your eyes and painted my cheeks red.
I took the words back before they even won the war because I feel the distrust in your breaths.
But every time I heard those precious eight letters arranged perfectly in my mind they sounded flawless as they rolled around on my tongue.
Every pause in your words or warm stare I could feel them take shape but I fought. I fought for fear of another moment of disillusionment and disarray.
But one day.
One day the single letter before the two words melted from your lips and I surrendered.
It dripped from my tongue and slid out my lips, rolling through deaf stillness.
For only an instant did my heart forget to beat.
It was solid, sound and stable and the only awkward pause was that of my hearts reassurement that this was love.
