People say you have a reckless love. But I don’t believe that’s true. I think you thought about it, for a good, long time. In fact, I’m told you cried thinking about it that night. . . You cried for me. . .
I guess that’d mean your love was not an impulse. You’re not like me. . . I’m always changing, swaying like the ocean. Your heart is prudent. You’re like an artist, putting careful thought into every detail. And when you complete your work, you carefully carry it, protecting from accidental damage.
I heard you’re wild, audacious, but I don’t believe you’re any of these things. You were careful and cautious when my soul was on the line. No, your love wasn’t reckless. It was the most tender, caring love that saves my reckless heart.