I couldn't tell you
what perfection is.
For every time I try,
my mind closes its windows and locks its doors,
frightened by the concept of flawlessness within a single person.
I could, on the other hand, list the many things perfection is not.
perfection is not twirling a blade between your fingers, wondering where it will leave its mark next.
perfection is not buying shirts 4 sizes too big to cover up what we think is there.
perfection is not tilting back the bottle again, promising yourself that it is the last time.
perfection is not the face I see staring back at me each and every day.