The day I said I love you, I plucked the words I would say out of the ether and weaved magic in it, just so I could present it elegantly to you. I laced my words with sugar cubes so that it would taste sweet in your mouth, and poured warm honey in it so that it would melt on your tongue.
The day I said I love you, I casted my name with a memory spell so that my name would linger and last a little longer on your lips, and you wouldn’t mistake me for someone else.
I waved a wand to still my racing heart, and made a last wish to a shooting star.
I guess my charms and all those preparations failed to work with you, because the day I said I love you, you laughed out loud and crushed my beautiful words under your foot, and dismissed me with a wave of hand.
You said I’m a fool.