"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Say it. Say the words."

". . . I love you."

He breathes the words in then brings his mouth to mine as if he would swallow them, taste the love I say is in me, fill himself up on it. I want to say that no one can fill that hollow, no matter how badly they'd like to, that only he can make himself whole, but I can't say anything with his lips in the way.