Tip toeing on a tightrope,
Trying to tie together
Those terse three that
For worse or for better
Taste tart on my tongue.
Too much talk tames these
Tailored token three, but
I ache for their release.
Thinking thins the temptation
Even as they tickle my throat.
These tender three are timeless,
I can sit and stew and choke
While they thunder and thump.
Their toxicity is a tragedy,
They can thrill you, touch you,
Toy with you, destroy you easily.
To be timid is to be wise.
The tempest tests to tear
These three down to the truth,
To know if they're said with care.
To wit, those that I cannot say
Those traitors three that
Have often turned to ash-
I love you.
I can't say it. Not yet, no,
Not until I know they'll last.