to loving me.
In the beginning, I am quite easy to love.
My surface is smooth, my smiles tender.
But as time undresses,
my insides are revealed to be rough and ragged.
It will become awfully difficult to love me.
At times, borderline impossible.
Many have left; for people would rather
see a car accident unfold from afar,
than be the shotgun rider.
Only you can see all you see, know all you know
about me, and still look at me like this.