How do you say I love you without actually saying I love you? 


I agree with @Mystery_person191919  u give hints n show with ur actions ..... actions + Hints


@rrrian  you just say it or give hints to the person.


@rrrian hmmmm.....it will be quite obvious and the person will make out what you are thinking. easy peest


a small token of kindness (26th January 2022) 
          drowned memories, corrupted crumbs; life a bed of roses, devoid of petals, moon devoid of happiness.  befouled peonies, courageous shadows; vintage spotlights and bright sunlight. glass poems and mirrored languages; wavelengths of snow flakes, fire a substance of time. 
          follower of the womb, crime of the night; reward the stars, warmth of God. creaks in children, the doors of whispers; ocean magma, the pearls of blood. the skeleton of flowers, roots of the wind that kisses a human; limitation a punishment, how often do we worship grief? how much peace we let it observe, how much we let it strangle our ribs? 
          dejection is large, it is of the monuments; slip it into the sea's finger, gift it to the ripples of the sky's valleys.  life same as the lines on palms, pain a death of moon's phases. every artist a velvet night, earth a canvas of the chiming heavens. blanket of affection, love of tigers; a dream of rue, pressed as a red on lips. 
          muddled january, blazers of fragnant heartbeats; noise of solitude, a home of curtained chaos. hills of 
          a woman lost, slippers of her scent in a desert; a sin like the rainbow, a meadow of worship. every inhale a prayer, soft regrets; tears of a second chance, suffering prolonged. monsters of madness under beds, souls of older sunsets; a candle of wish in boiling spirits, a plea to sleep cradled to a mother's breast. 


a small token of kindness (21st January 2022) 
          ten piano keys, paintings of yellow dreams; childish adolescence, the crayons of the night white. sickness of sweetbriar, honey dipped brides; veils vandalised, pastiched loves and graveyards of fingers. famished lanterns, pages of youth; eyes stolen by dreams, tarnished overcoats of skins. drops of storms, vapour words; droughted gardens, traditional typhoons. 
          sophisticated blankets, strokes of gadfly; mature murmurs, sonnets of blueberry grass. toffee thorns and patches of palm trees; collarbone battles and whispers from cobalt and corn fields. lavenders in cauldron blue, sacrificed murders; lips a mask of sunrise red, a prisoner of flame. arsenic satan, a potion of glee; a skeleton of absence, black bruises in blood. 
          scattered wants and immoral sins; gentle stones and innocent breaks; contusioned cheeks of time, atlas of rubied aquamarines. scent of a salty window, sunrise of the macramé ocean; pale elegies, tremble of the undone. sunglasses of braided nests, friendly strangers like hematite of summer. 
          tidal waves like saree pleats, consummation of vibrant walls; seamstress of chambered catharsis, february wreckage a lapus lazuli. communion trophies, dirt under bones; scarves of jupiter, growls of corset pears. grief is winter, velvet snow. watch the heart, tiny springs reside in them. like the graves death has, do the living have homes?