She said I was perfect.
Then why did she leave?

She said I was perfect.
Then why did she cheat?

She said I was perfect.
Then why am I flawed?

She said I was perfect?

She said I was perfect.

Perfectly fitting to leave.
Perfectly suitable to use.
Perfectly cut to wear on your finger.

Isn't it perfect,
that imperfections are perfect?

Thank God,
The bar for perfection is so low.

Or I might be perfectly alone now.

...

I am?

Isn't that perfect?