You asked me what my definition of perfection was: I smiled and said you.
Simply because of your eyes that defy the color of the emerald green leaves on an oak tree.
Your smile that brightens up the area around you.
When your laugh echos magnificently across the horizon, but is still gentle enough to bring me close.
The way your nose twitches slightly when you're amused.
Your voice, raspy, yet could sooth even the monstrous beast to sleep.
But anyone can say that.
To me, it's the way when you get mad at the stupidest things-- like when you mix your coffee with mine on a Sunday morning.
Or when you told me no more dogs but I still brought home that shaggy looking dog from the park.
Perfection, is when you roll out of bed for work and you look like you partied hard the night before.
It's the sound when you tell a really bad joke that only you seem to get.
It's the way you dance in the living room when your favorite song plays--especially at 3am.
It's the way you look over my shoulder and watch with fascination when I draw.
It's when you try surprising me with a nice home cooked meal but end up nearly burning the house down.
Anyone can say that looks or personality is the definition of perfection. But the actions of someone, what they say or do, now that is the definition of perfection.
YOU ARE READING
Where Do I Even Go? (short poems)
PoetryJust short pieces of writing that some may relate to on any situation they may have encountered now or in the past. Some poems may not be relatable in real life but for mere enjoyment.
