I know there were many before me, but I hope to be the last; your enduring love. How do I stop this discomfort in my heart from the fear you’re going to hurt me? Today I am what you want, but what about next month, next year? Will you still want me then? M.M.
Will you love me, please?
When I’m bored, when I cry, when I tease?
Will you love me when I’m reading and don’t talk?
Or when I’m too tired to go on a walk?
Will you love me when I don’t feel like kissing?
When the last thing I want is to touch?
Will you love me when I hate me?
My I ask this, or is it too much