I met him,
I finally did,
Him that they call perfect,
You know, Mr. Perfect,
Prince charming.I met him,
Yes I did.
I saw him.
I even said hi.
But you know, he was flawed.He is only human,
And for that, I don't judge.
He has a scar on his left brow,
Wrinkles on his forehead.
He shys away when I look into his eyes.I met him.
And I know why they call him perfect.
His infectious smile,
His breathtaking laughter,
His kind and selfish heart,
His flaws.
They make him, Perfect.
YOU ARE READING
Running from reality
PoetryI write better than I speak. Poetry that speaks to the soul, flows from the endless fountain that is my heatt