your name echoes in my thoughts.
bright lights spell it out
racing, my mind can't stop
you're all I've ever asked for
craving your response
evidently my heart beats a little faster when you're near
night turns to day and you're still here.

we aren't perfect,
more like a shifting puzzle.
we have our turning points,
better times.
other days I wish I hadn't woken up for,
but in the end
we make an exquisite masterpiece.

some people admire our artwork,
others only find its flaws.
but what are flaws?
peoples definitions of imperfect?
because "imperfection" is just an opinion.

however, one day you decided art wasn't your forte.
our painting was no longer on display.
it fell off the wall
the painting broke along with my heart.
it left scars and imperfections on the wall.
without the painting, the wall looked bare.
the wall lacked character.

now when people see the painting they just shrug thinking about what it used to be.

however I am the painting.
a jumble of colors thrown together in attempt to make something beautiful.
I was just hung up until a better painting came along.
then I came crashing down
and thrown into the pile of unwanted art work
only looked at according to my flaws.
longing for my pieces to be put back together.

but how could a broken painting ever compare to a brand new one?
it can't.
but that "shiny" painting won't last.
it's only for looks
as for me, look deeper.
because when you aimlessly try to put the pieces back together
there's always something missing.
and that something is you.