I see it now

I’m starting to see now why it couldn’t be me.
It’s because you need a free love, apparently.
You need somebody who’d be about three hundred
kilometres apart from you on a map grid
(despite you claiming you’re not one for just texting);
somebody who you’d be personally meeting
once or twice a month at most for the whole weekend
to go for a trip or sporting together and
then for a cup of coffee ever in some new
fancy place, highly likely followed by a few
hours of physical intimacy at night;
somebody who’d be going on you very light
—  basically a friend with casual benefits,
not someone who’d suffocate you with her love needs;
someone who wouldn’t bother you with commitment,
whose happiness wouldn’t be on you dependent,
who wouldn’t shower you with endless affections
on a daily basis nor give you gift tokens
and write love poems. Oh, silly me for wanting
to give you right that and to treat you like a king,
forgetting you’re just like the Mustang horses who
need their freedom to roam wild at will, to my rue.
You’re like the movie runaway bride, in need of
a relationship without too much pressure of
expectations or whatever it is about
love closeness that scares you so much, lest you bail out.