lover,
you're perfect.
you're not, of course,
but you have perfect imperfections
perfectly crafted to shape you into the perfect being
my, do i want to keep you safe like the perfect words you wrote once in a letter to hand off to me
keep you sheltered from the imperfect world as if its imperfections will wear off on you and make you imperfect
irrational, of course, because
lover,
you're perfect.
completely enamored with just the thought of you,
hypnotized by your perfections,
besotted with your imperfections,
and yet my words cannot express enough how perfect you truly are but
lover,
you're perfect.
i cannot tear my imperfect gaze away from you and your perfections,
and i cannot praise every perfect movement you make,
and i cannot critique all your perfect imperfections...
so an ode to my lover,
and his imperfect perfections.
