Perfect

The flaws of perfection run deep

You’re so perfect

No. 

Do not call me perfect, sweet one,

For in doing so, you eradicate my individuality.

Perfection is the glossing over of quirks and differences,

Of shiny skin and even temper,

Of preconceived ideals and the acceptance of them.

I am imperfect.

I am walking the wrong direction in a sea-like crowd,

A candle flame dancing to a song never before played.

Do not call me perfect, sweet one,

For in doing so, you erase the things unique to me.

The hopes, the dreams, the hesitations that are entirely my own,

The whims and quirks and eccentricities nobody else can claim.

You erase the story of my life,

You erase what makes me, me.

You’re so perfect,

No.

Do not call me perfect, sweet one.