I wonder if you have scars,
To me, they would shine as if stars.
The luminaires without which
the night sky would be melancholic.
You are Imperfectly Perfect;
this might sound a little hyperbolic.

I wonder if you hate those cuts,
The ones that you shrouded with all your gut.
They are not scars, but stories.
Marking on the frame of your soul, a territory.
You are Perfectly Imperfect;
I hope you know what this reflects.

Time heals all wounds,
and leaves the scars.
How else would you know,
that you are a survivor?

(Phase:1)
You blinked,
My breathe hitched.
Walked across the room,
I swore I was swooned.

You held my hand,
I couldn't even hear the door slam.
Caressed my back,
Uh-oh, cut me some slack.

You like me, you say,
This is my favourite May.
The background blurs, a halo forms 'round you,
I can stick with you like glue.

(Phase:2)
You won't return my texts,
Don't even give any context.
I convince myself, he's just busy,
He is not leaving me, is he?

You yelled at me today,
Left me in decay.
Didn't even care to apologize,
It took me a moment to analyze.

You say, you can't do this anymore,
They all leave, I have kept a score.
You walk away,
Next time, I won't sway.