Sometimes I wonder if you like me or if-
You just like the idea. The concept.
Seeing me is like seeing yourself, looking in a mirror.
How do I know that you love me, and not the concept.
You’re projecting.
It’s all conceptual.

If imperfect people create perfect love, then what are we?
If imperfections make you beautiful, did I become grotesque?

If the concept is more alluring than the truth, then is it a lie?
If the concept is better than me, then maybe I’ll never be your lover.