Picture Perfect

Sometimes I look at her, and I think, Could she be anymore perfect? Though not everyone may agree, but still I believe that only she could make me happy, despite all my imperfections and insecurity, and so for this reason, and many more, I do not care for what they say, because they can’t understand the way I feel when she’s holding me, when she chooses me above all others to be with, as if it’s a perfectly natural, normal thing, and though she hates being photographed, she’ll do it for me, and she will try to scowl but I can always make her smile, and it’s always worth my while, for now I can paint her with my words, her beauty a poem for the world to read and in my heart, I know that I will for always stay this way, devoted and deluded, but if that’s the life I choose then why should they stand in my way? I can feel just how I like, and if it all ends in tears, so what? For still I will have had an amazing time.