I am imperfect to a point of annoyance.
My flaws show on my body much like the galaxies of stars, the moon, the solar systems. Obvious yet, beautiful. Or so, you say.
I hope you are okay with my hair, and how it will always be frizzy.
Or how, I tend to cry a lot.
Oh, and don't forget about how I am always insecure.
Because love,
If you can deal with that, then you can deal with me.
And that means a lot.
-k.r.m.h.
