Promises (draft)

I like you is a promise, transmitted at light speed across a room,
The first move in the game played with less than complete integrity.
Trust me is a promise, an appeal to vanity, wrapped in reciprocity
Not considered or intended, hint that first light gives budded bloom.

I feel you is a promise, hear the herald of doom in the whisper of skin.
Fevered and completed, for and of you, drifting in temporary eternity.
Bury me is a promise, to be last witness to life’s appalling indignity.
To return at last across that same room that same look, that little grin.

I love you is a promise. I love you is a lie. The word is too small.