You are perfect,
In all your
Imperfections.
You are beautiful,
In your undying
Glory.
Your broken soul
Is the very thing
That makes you
Whole.
Your gentle kiss,
Your healing touch.
You are you,
And no one else.
'Tis you I love,
In all your
Perfect
Imperfections.
Under cover of the night,
By the stars gentle glow,
'Tis you I love.
In your glorious beauty.
In the quiet morn,
Your face peaceful,
Unadorned--
'Tis you I love.
In all your perfect,
Imperfections

And I want to tell her that I understand
what it feels like to be fake, insignificant,
and a shadow on the sidewalk of society.

And I want to tell her that I also borrow
the experiences of others --
that I, too, learn feelings
by stopping and staring at personal wreckage,
like a tourist of emotions,
like an inevitable wish of a human being.