Sometimes saying I love you feels like under my tongue I’m holding a specially fashioned key designed to unlock the padlocks of apprehension and the chains of fear and insecurity wrapped around your heart and to set you loose like a bird from a cage into a world where you’re free to be yourself around me.
Sometimes saying I love you feels like you’ve asked for my last breath and if I give it I’ll have none left to live on.
Sometimes saying I love you feels like my teeth have all discussed the greatest gift they could give to you and after much deliberation they all proudly prompt my mouth and present themselves behind my lips that gift-wrap three words with passion and meaning.
Sometimes saying I love you feels as though I’ve placed your finger on the trigger of the gun that’s in my mouth and now I’m left to trust your kindness.
Sometimes saying I love you feels like healing is hidden between my jaws so if I hesitate or pause, I prolong your pain.
It’s not a phrase I had painted often on the walls of my nursery mind when my milk teeth were growing and so maybe that’s why it feels foreign to my pallet.
Or perhaps it’s an acquired taste that’s accepted after many proposals which I lack and so it still leaves a sour ring on the tip of my tongue.
It tastes like power and weakness, like strength and meekness, like light and bleakness all in one.
But to Him saying I love you felt like the loose teeth in His mouth from the blows to His cheek. “Prophesy! Who hit you?”
To Him saying I love you felt like gasping for air and tasted like sour wine and gall mixed with His own blood.
To Him saying I love you tasted like the Father’s wrath and smelled like death but He swallowed His pride and emptied that cup.
Before I can say I love you
I have to hear Him say it first.
October 24th 2018