Ily | Yenja Xiong From the screen of my phone, white printed trapped in blue bubbles they were sent from I know what they mean and I’d like to believe they come from sincerity Words from my mother They must be sincere, I read the words, “I love you,” again and I’ve heard it’s not something to be said lightly But that’s how I take it Lightly Like a feather resting on me Amongst the stones that weren’t so gently placed Arranged to conceal me Just a feather, lying in a crevice Trying to find a place to reach me But I make no effort to grab hold of it, Like the feeling from this text message It will float away soon As I am not deserving enough I repeat the words in my head It’s not the first time I’ve heard them A slight pause -- awkward -The disappointment comes quickly “Where’s my ‘I love you’ back?” “Oh.” I repeat them. It’s not something to be said lightly But I feel it leaving my tongue as so -Heavy -Like another stone tossed at me Stumbling down the mountain of others Finding a place in a crevice, where it stays. The more I say it, the more I feel like I don’t mean it Out of obligation becomes my intention I’ve convinced myself I’ve become numb to the heaviness
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