You constantly search for
Yet fail to see what is already there.
I thought you knew;
Subtlety is my favorite vice.

I understand your need,
I feel your longing;
You never seem hesitant
To remind me.

Is it so wrong to trust you?
To love you enough to pretend?
I thought you knew;
Martyrdom is one of my many follies.

Just because I do not wince
At every infliction of pain
Doesn't mean I can not feel;
Expression was never my forte.
I do try and, little by little,
I'll prove to you that the "real me"
Is better than the "idea of me" that
You created in your mind.

You, the way you are,
On the other hand,
Are more than enough for me;
I just thought I should let you know.

I am flawed and undeserving, but
Willing to work on myself, on us:
I am yours, you are mine; I love you...
And I will keep letting you know.