I Love You

I Love You

Seems we only say it when one of us —
It’s almost always me — is leaving,
At the end of summers I’ve grow thin from,
They grayer, the oil of our blood changed 
By the kid who works in Time’s body shop,
Seems only then do we hang those three words
In the air like those watermarks of smoke
You see in the light of the fireworks that follow, 
But the words don’t mean any less, much less 
Turn meaningless, for the fact that we always
Abruptly turn and walk away from them.