I found this lying upon my desk
and wondered when and for whom was it written?
And then most clearly I knew.

You are an injury that will not heal.
A light that will not dim.
And in me is a heart that will not be still.

Love me with your eyes.
With your hands, your softness.
Love me with your love.
Your mouth. Your kindness.
Let me feel your compassion.
Love me, if you would,
because I love you.
And if, for all my love,
you will not love me,
then may I still love you?
Accept my love as graciously
as you have my company.