Three Words

By BRAYDEN BILLINGTON, February 14, 2022

All the words said I know to be true,

but throughout and after all this pain I accrue,

past the infinite darkness and what may it bring,

I will never forever forget about you.


We haven’t yet met, though I hope that we do…

Understand my heart and soul through and through.

In a world in which I keep my words reserved I’ll find

the one to whom my heart speaks fully true.


Perchance we’ll meet some soft-sunken day,

where rain hits the windows in a soft-spoken way,

or where sun brazens down and the people make no sound—

Our found secluded paradise with no one else around.


Maybe it’s there you’ll say Three simple Words

meant for me and my ears alone to be heard,

Three that speak to the nature between you and I,

Three that will render my mood smoother than the sunset shaded sky.


Those Three Words from you,

so universal, yet so personal,

could flip the day around

quicker than the light switch illuminates

this dark and desolate room where I sit,

without you here.

I no longer want to sit

without you near.


Maybe anguished contempt and discontent

keeps me from knowing you rightly,

but the content of such a sullied soul that I cannot accept,

and the frustration at the lack of anything good or possibly adept,

are what wring my tears on the nightly.

These thoughts and many more darker,

have grown louder as through nights past they crept,

echoing myself to spite me.


The time you’d tenderly take

to tell me those Three Words

means more than words can muster—

more than brightly shining diamonds,

more than gold’s radiant luster.


Maybe I’ll hear those Three Words

from down a telephone line,

or as you stand in front of me,

letting me know you're truly mine.


Maybe I’ll hear them sung

under sweltering summer sun,

amongst the glimmer of crashing waves,

and our journey will have begun.


Or beneath the orange autumn leaves

and sky so meek and pure,

Three Words which reflect the weather,

reflect what’s, for us, in store.


Or within winter’s wooden log cabin,

said whilst snuggled by the fireside,

all the snow that surrounds us won’t penetrate my heart,

when it’s you who’s by my side.


Or, just maybe, over the sound of the sweet spring breeze,

through the wind in the sails, by the pink budding trees,

Your voice will be carried—

Finally, those wonderful words of few—

Kindly spoken, softly said,


“I love you."


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