Patience

My love is demanding, my love is commanding.

You have to read between the lines, and not merely skim.

My love becomes dim, only when – your focused becomes trimmed.

You need to see what I am painting, the things I am truly saying.

If not, then my patience becomes slim.

Love drops from ten, to then mist.

Because then I only will want to love you from a distance…

Feel what I am saying, reflect on it if you want this to last.

Love is powerful, love is not perfect –

My love is like delicate glass.

Not mere expectations, they are standards.

I don’t expect much, but for you to see the point I am making.

The world is for the taking, and I need assistance, a womanly figure.

To grasp what I am saying – to feel the ground that I am laying…

Through these poetic portraits, through my empathy that is scorching…

Feel yourself, and then feel for me.

Hopefully you will see, and this love will ultimately multiply times three.

But until then, my dear Emily…

Enhancement and focus, is my sole purpose.

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