I was transfixed by
That wandering eye, a spec
In a cup of milk

I am small like a child,
wet face pressed
against a massive chest.

His arms crush me gently,
wrap me in a shroud
of sinew and bone

as the smell of bourbon
and musk fills my nostrils.
His breath feathers lightly

across the top of my head;
reassuring whispers
tickle my spine

and tell me
I am not wicked,
I am not a useless, hopeless thing.

I am perfect and flawed.
I am loved.
It is enough.

You may be older by little,
You may not have all the greatest of looks,
Your teeth are as rotten as coal.
You may be skinny as bones....

But to me, i see....

A man with a loving smile,
A man who has deep ocean blue eyes that glow up a room every time you cry,
A man with a heart and soul,
Tender lover.
Innocence.

An imperfect man can seem so strange,
until you see the other side of his world,
where a man so *******, or beast like....
becomes a man you see through your eyes...
that you truly,

love....

I love a beast

The distorted utopia swallows
me in into the bed of ghosted souls
among the thorns of lies that
pile on with twisted smiles
and words of sugar.

The deserted lands that once saw
joy lay parched with fear of pain.
The permanent is the new flaw,
That drives the winds of pleasure away,
as I hide in my shadows.

When I was younger
I always thought
My family loved each other
Not unrealistically like in the movies
But more in their humanly
And flawed way

But now that I am older
I wonder if it was love at all
It all feels like an illusion
To cover up the rotten core
Of greed and pride

If we were the mirror of our creation
                and not made in perfect silhouettes.

Then we aren't the creation of perfection,
                           as were flawed beyond our sell by date.

Then that which made us is imperfect in its design.
                  So not omnipotent,
  flawed in its own blueprint.

And so just another pebble in
A dry pond where wishes die.