I have been waiting for you.
And now, with one week left, you arrive.
I want to scoop you up. Show you off.
Marvel in your intricate beauty.
But you will have none of it. You are afraid of me. You cower. You threaten. You are fragile.
You intimidate because you know that you are beaten.
You must resign yourself to my whims.
To my wishes.
But I cannot seem to communicate with you today.
I only want the best for you.
You are beautiful.
I like you for what you are.
My whims, My wishes, are that you can be what you want to be.