do not

vi. Perfect Monster

It is not I you knew. It was the me that shows my perfection. You love her or rather loved. You loved the concept of little miss perfect.

Her incessant beauty, her catching smiles. You loved her humility and kindness with life.

But let me ask you something.

Did you knew her demons?

The one who kept her awake at night?

The monsters who stained her wounded heart?

The shadows inside her head.

She's crying and shouting.

Begging for help. Trying to reach out.. reaching out for you.

But you let go..

You let her go for the impeccable damsel.

Funny.

Because that's where we started.
You thought I was too, seamless.

But in the end when you met my monstrosity, your love ambled to loathe.

I realized you didn't truly love me. You just loved the idea of falling perfectly.

This I tell you. Beyond mortal's fairness, lies the grotesque mask.

But guess what, darling? If you are genuine with your love, you don't drop the mask.

You accept them.. accept her.. me.

Every inch of her. Every inch of my imperfection.

Because your incapability of acceptance means your incapability of loving.

And it seems your inept to love means you are worse than my demons.