make it mundane.

"i love you". as the words so carelessly fall from the mouth, they take control of everything around you and suddenly you're suffocating. so i beg of you, when the time comes for you to blurt out those three little words, make it mundane. do not say it as we play innocently in a bubble bath like children. do not say it as you delicately graze your hands over every bump and scar on my body. do not say it as we cuddle by the fire to keep warm. do not say it when i fall flat on my ass trying to ice skate. do not say it under the christmas market lights. do not say it on new years eye when the ball drops. do not say it on a lazy sunday morning in bed with pancakes and coffee. do not say it as you watch me open my birthday present. do not say it as you so gently caress my face, wipe my tears or tuck my hair behind my ear. do not even dare say it in the car after our first family dinner. because if you do, you will taint these things for me when you leave — and you will. you will ruin each of these beautiful memories and each time i try to recreate new ones with someone else, i will be painfully reminded of you uttering that fragile expression.