‘I love you’

Sometimes I wonder if 'I love you' is just a placatory remark

strained from the metal ribs

of an answering machine,

from left- over words

and cut- up phrases

and emotions discarded

all shoved together with glue and paper

and painted bright red

and given some pink sprinkles.

I wonder if 'I love you'

is just a parasite,

drinking my emotions.

and some day

it'll be sick of feeding on my same monotone

happiness

and sadness

and madness.

so it will peel off me

with a good layer of my skin,

revealing some of the wooden- doll

joints and bones

that control me,

and it'll fall onto the ground

Somebody else will pick it up.

They'll hear those words

'I love you'.

And maybe they'll fall for it

                                              all

                                                     over

                                                               again.