Today you said you were perfect
And, I know you were joking, but I couldn’t stop wondering:
How could you be so perfect with so many scars?
But then I realized.
The scars, the marks, the pain,
That’s what makes you beautiful.
Not perfect,
But so close to it, the line starts to blur.
Everything you’ve admitted to me,
Every time you let your soul bleed out to me,
I see you,
Not the ‘perfect’ you,
But the beautiful you.
The you who has endured so, so much.
The you who doesn’t paint on a smile,
The you that stands there,
And bears the unbearable with me.
The you who holds up my sky for me even as my world shatters.

So maybe you aren’t perfect,
Maybe your chipped tooth smile and your splintered heart
Are showcased in glass to the world,
And maybe the scars you’ve shown me still bleed,
But maybe,
You’re beautiful to me.