The End of Perfection

I thought you were perfect. And you don't know how hard that is: To find someone so worth it, Who looks at you as worthless. Do you know how destructive it is To meet the perfect person? To know the perfect person? To love the perfect person? Do you know how destructive it is To assign that role to them? Especially when they can't live up To your expectations of perfection. Yes. You are perfect. In most every sense of the word. And yes, I loved you. But you didn't love me. Maybe you didn't even care about me at all. How can someone be perfect to me, If they don't love me? It doesn't matter. All that matters is that now I expect Perfection. I will compare all future men to you. You pursued me. Your body was beautiful and I thought your heart was too. Your hair was so soft, It was your only sympathy. Your laugh, oh your laugh... It was everything to me. It was the sun in the sky and the stars in your eyes. I knew you were perfect when you gave a beautiful flower my name and a wilting one yours. Perfection is destruction because now, Love to me means the way I felt about you. You are a parasite eating away at my brain Until I am no longer physically capable of allowing anyone else to live up to the idea that is you. Your perfection will destroy me Because I will not be able to love another man Without comparing him to you... And that's a lot to live up to.