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.
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