On paper, you are all wrong.
The list is long that describes your faults.
On paper, you are not right, at all.
The adjectives are many that paint you negatively.
But with one drag from your cigarette,
and a grin, cloaked by your black and grey whiskers,
I forget.
When my name flows out of your mouth,
even in the plainest of tones,
I forget.
The long list, the one that I always turn to,
and try to convince myself out of this,
vanishes.
I swim in a sweet, sublime pool of bliss.
I feel love for you, in the simplest of ways.
I love you. Simply and purely.
List or not.