for you…

I’m intense.

Scared to be left, to my self, alone.

I’m intense.

Insecurely holding on.

I’m intense.

Hoping to fall in love and attach, perhaps, too fast.

I am intense.

I guess, because my heart was gashed, and I am afraid.

Too intense, and it’s what I embrace, because I’m afraid of days, where I feel played, forgotten and darkest.

I worked so hard to get to this mental space, of clarity and understanding.

I’m intense because my love is demanding.

I never received or gotten love reciprocated from parents.

It’s a shame and an ugly mess.

I stare in the mirror often, to see it all.

It’s like beautiful work from Van Gough.

Except, only I can understand and see the master piece.

While the rest only sees what is left of me.

It isn’t sufficient, you have to read and see the totality, I cry.

But I am impatient and intense, waiting for someone to turn the pages with sincere patience…

You’ve been doing that, while my intensity is lowering its threshold.

Reality shifts, and dimmers, while I realize the absurdity of my intense intentions.

I am sorry.

I had it rough is my excuse.

I’m doing my best, and I am true.

Please, hold my hand and be my friend.

Listen to my thoughts, in between kisses, while capturing my imagination…

I’ll cherish you forever, an intense love, like no other.