I'm terrified that you
Are falling in love
With the idea of me,
That the masterpiece
Your mind has painted
Far surpasses the reality
Of its subject.

When you see each
Glaring imperfection,
The incongruent lines
That shape my body,
The speckled skin
That litters my frame,
Perhaps you'll realize that
This canvas was flawed all along.

Past the impressionist blur of color
So thickly laced with
Your dreams,
There am I,
A harsh form
Captured in still life.
An incomplete charcoal sketch.

It could be that
You've simply
Never been one for realism
And I'm just
"The Girl with a Pearl Earring"
When you always wanted
"Starry Night"