I’d like to go back
to scream it
curse it and abuse it
and say the words over and again.
In other arms, in the backs of strangers’ cars
in the apparition of a lifetime
against the measure and decay of time-
I will love you.
In his room and his bed
in clichéd affectations of affection
in half-assed talk
made in the name of stillborn sentimentality.
In other words,
and in spite of it all-
I love you.