A poem: If


If you cannot handle my fits of anger and my nervous jitters, 

Then my darling, I am sorry, but you are not meant for me. 

If you cannot deal with strength shattering in a million directions, 

If you are not able to forgive and forget, love and surrender, 

Then my darling, it seems that my intuition was right about you. 

If you cannot cope with freaking out’s and inner implosions, 

If you cannot bear the pain of the growth of wings,

Then my dear, you don’t know how to love at all. 

But if you can accept that we are all flawed and incomplete, 

Imperfect humans, just trying to be good and live with soul,

Just trying to cope with hidden inner flames that burn, 

Just barely managing to live with dreams in this reality, 

Then my love, apologise and come sit by me…. sing in my ear, 

Touch my heart, and lullaby my soul, as we have done before.

But if, and only if, you cannot deal with the prickling thorns, 

Then, my darling, you do not deserve the blossoming rose,

My path is clear, and if that is you, then so is yours: 

Go my love, go now and be that you, and I will be all of me. 


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