Love is Free

They liked Me so much better

before I met Myself,

when They could choose my masks

and make Me someone else.

When at last I was acquainted,

when Myself and I shook hands,

and there I saw Me burden-buried

beneath the weight of Their demands,

beside Myself, I uncovered Me.

We conveyed no recognition.

"This won't be easy," I told Myself;

"but we owe Me this decision."

Now as one, we turned to Them

and asked the dreaded question:

"If I show Myself

and I'm not what you expected;

if I'm not the Me you manufactured,

will your love be lessened?"

Now as one, They turned away;

by saying nothing said it all.

My love is free, but hate's a fee.

Be sure you budget for the cost.

Tally it in silent seconds

now circling the clock.

Count it in calls ignored.

Of letters returned, take stock.

A penny for every place from which

I am not gone, but lost.