from my first poetry book,
Still Growing Wildflowers.

You do not get to pick and choose the parts of me that you love as if you’re picking petals from a flower
Love me
Love me not
Love this
Not that
Throwing them down on the grass while I’m asking
Do you love me
Do you love me
Do you love me yet
By the time you are done pulling at the core there is nothing left for you to love anymore