Do You Love Me?

Love is such a curious thing, isn’t it?

We aren’t quite sure what it is, yet we constantly proclaim it

“I love you…I love you too!”

But really, which me do you love?

Do you love the me you see, the version that’s great for you?

Or the me you wish me to be, the parts you desire to mold and sharpen

Possibly the me that’s under construction, simply waiting and wanting

Do you love me when I’m wretched, broken, down?

When I’m mean, despicable, intolerable?

Or do you only love me when I’m sweet, pleasant, loving?

When I dote on you, love on you, bask in your presence?

Is it really love, if you only love one aspect of me?

The part that makes sense, that’s palatable for you?

I don't know either, and wont pretend to know

Maybe we’ll never know, so until then

“I love you”, “I love you too!”