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I don't fit in with you, I know. My way of loving is different, delicate and passionate, without pauses or limits. I like old-fashioned love, with sincere verses and handwritten letters.

I'm probably not what you're looking for, because I tend to be insistent, asking you all the time how you are, if you've eaten well, or if something is bothering you. That constant concern may drive you crazy.

I think maybe I'm not the right person for you because, when I take your hand, I never want to let go, something you may not be able to understand without a little suspicion.

Now, even though we're still nothing, you occupy my thoughts from dawn to dusk. I treasure every second by your side, and when it's time to part, it's harder than I'd like to admit.

Perhaps we are simply not compatible, like the moon and the sun, which observe each other from afar but only have the opportunity to cross paths during those fleeting moments of dawn and dusk.

You are a free spirit, a traveler who explores skies and seas alike, while I prefer to put down roots, building a warm and safe refuge from the soul.

I'm not the best for you because my way of loving is intense, full of “I love yous” that flow without restraint. I would write poetry in the sand for you and find constellations to draw a heavenly home.

I am peculiar in the way I give myself to love: I do it completely, betting my soul, my heart, and even the deepest fragments of my being.