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Gabriel Apr 2020
She has imperfections
     her scars are too deep
for any man can dive.
    As you walk down the aisle,
your feet takes you closer to me
         your eyes signal the words
                     "I do"
        before you can even speak
and yours lips
    holding the most beautiful vows
That's the time I knew
             This is for a lifetime
Iloveyou
I have been through hell, beyond what anyone will truly understand.
There’s emotional damage that’s been done as consequence for having such an open and trusting heart.
I’ve fallen too fast, I’ve loved too easily, and I’ve trusted too many.
I am damaged and broken in ways that will never be mended.
I will never be who others want me to be because that is all that I’ve ever wanted to be.
My friends need me to be their crutch, my parents need me to be their perfectly well-rounded daughter, and the man I’m falling for,
well...
I just want to give him the best of me.
How does one pick and choose who to be for the ones they love, when regardless, the love almost always remains unreciprocated?
I would love to be their perfect daughter, but that’s not who I am.
I would love to be the perfect friend who picks up every call, but for reasons that I cannot control, that cannot be me.
I would love to be cared for, protected, and eventually loved unconditionally by the man who’s almost too perfect to be real.
But, I can't have the one person that makes me truly happy because everything else remains in my way.
I've been damaged,
broken,
bruised,
and used.
All I want is happiness, yet she shall remain a stranger to me until I find my escape from the overwhelming demands of everyone that I care for.
L Feb 2020
You were sweet, yes. I won’t be the poet who compares you to honey for it, but yes. You were honey.
But not for your sweetness; honey–
Not in spite of your acid, but because of it.

You are the gods painted
in our imperfect, mortal image.

In your mortality, in your burning
In your acidic, golden eye.

Honey.



-
I wish I knew how to say it.
I wish I knew how to tell her any of it.

I wish I never would have opened my mouth, and called her perfect.
I didn't think that.
I knew she was imperfect. And I wanted to know her for it.
maureen Feb 2020
Love is nothing like what is shown on-screen;
Bouquets lavish, flowers never-dying
Every conflict resolved as if foreseen
Hearts so warm, characters end up singing.
The love that's beyond cameras and lights
Is love embellished with imperfections -
Behind their flowery, script-induced lines
Lies no such true feelings and emotions;
Though love may not be sunny days in June
But the darkness in the sky at winter,
Having real intent behind "I love you"s
Are lines more worthy to be delivered.
Love is nothing like what is shown on-screen;
But more deserving of happy endings.
Cenna Khatib Jan 2020
An Ode to My Crooked Teeth:

To the pearly stones knocking about
Dancing around each other
Bumping shoulders
Standing sideways

And a little lopsided

To the relentless little bones
That grind senselessly with nerves
That rarely ever chew
Without aches and pains

Braces tried to restrain you once
To make you straight
To match images perfected by society

But my stubborn smile
Won’t change for anyone
Xaela San Jan 2020
As a girl
I have my own version
of a Prince Charming
Described as perfect;
Tall, handsome, flawless man

Yet as I got older
I opened my eyes to reality
And I saw him
Never like the perfect
Prince Charming
A little girl would dreamed of

He was flawed
in a beautiful way
And somehow broken
because of life

Just like that,
I like him the way he is
And who he is

The little girl I once before
would judge me now
She was naive and ignorant
But now she knows:

To love someone
One is required to look
passed the imperfections
And must understand
them wholly
To truly be able to love them.
Ayn Jan 2020
Imperfection is everything.
Nothing is immaculate,
nothing is fail-safe,
some fool is always dumber
than you are smart,
so nothing is fool-proof.

In some cases,
you are finding the drop of mud
on the silvery crystalline ocean.
That is good enough,
don't hurt yourself
by yearning for more.
this poem is telling myself to stop my tomfuckery with trying to be perfect, and I hope it gets the message to anyone else who has the same troubles with this stuff as I do.
Grey Dec 2019
They say I'm perfect.
They say they wish they were me.
I scoff in their face.

They don't know my life.
They haven't traversed my mind
or searched through my thoughts.

They know nothing of
what it is like to be me.
They don't get to say

That I am perfect
Any more than I can say
I know their life story.
Alek Mielnikow Jan 2020
not the man you used to be
and we do not know why
everything is suffocating
strangled by the lies

in the end it all felt wrong
like it was born to burn
scarring all your little ones with
nothing left to learn

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
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