you say you love rain, but you use an umbrella to walk under it. you say you love the sun, but you seek shelter when it is shining. you say you love the wind, but when it comes you close the windows.
so that's why Iβm scared when you say you love me.
If I gave you my soul, would you read each page? Scribble notes of interest and know me. Would you take the time, to help tape the seams? Would you mend, the fragility of my soul? It tears and rips, easily, emotionally.