Those Three Words

It was a hot summer night and the beach was burning; a perfect day.

She was perfect.

The sea glistened on her, salt like diamonds as her heat turned liquid to gas. I had three words on my mind, the only three that ever seemed enough for her, the only three I ever wanted to say to her. 

There she was, laying next to me, her chest gently rising and falling in intoxicating metronome. A painting made flesh. I moved in closer, pigment became mirror; contact. Her hand in mine, bodies intertwined. 

Face to face, the words on the tip of my tongue. I felt them leave but no matter what I did, I just couldn't seem to make any sound. 

Tattooed on her tongue, those three words. 

My last three words.