Imperfect

Why do I let myself feel?

Why am I on the verge of tears?

I don't expect this to mean anything to you,

I don't expect for you to care.

I didn't expect for me to hurt,

and even less for my heart to break.

My imperfections are my burden,

and the reason you don't stare.

Unknowingly piercing my heart

with the tiniest and sharpest of

needles disguised as words.

Unknowingly killing and drowning me

in the sorrow of reject.

Worst off all you haunt my dreams,

you invade my waking thoughts,

you steal my breaths,

leaving me to obsess.

But best of all,

it only takes one small lingering touch

or one of your blessed smiles,

to bring me right back from death.