Trade of souls.

If me being worth you,
Or your love,
Needs a constant reminder,
A constant injection of my love,
And an ever increasing flexibility on my part;
Let me tell you something:
I did love you,
Not because you were or are perfect,
You weren't.
I thought your flaws made you human,
I thought it was equally worth everything that was or is good about you.
When I spoke flexibility, it meant an understanding,
Respect, compassion and love,
Not condescension,
Not shrinking your soul, your being.
My love didn't ask you to validate your existence,
While on the contrary yours demanded credibility,
Validation of everything I was, would or could be.
As though we were traders,
Bartering our love for our souls.