Herban Poetry III

Perfect

I want to be perfect for you;
The man that you deserve.
A knight in shining armor in this
dull, forsaken world.
A silver, shimmering strand on high
to light your darkest days.
The voice that keeps you going
and the hands that guide your way.
The boy that makes your heart race
and the man that steals your breath.
The lantern light in handhold's sight
that surveys every step.
I want to be your antidote
for this sick existence.
Your sanctuary,
Your call to worship,
and your benediction.

I want to be perfect for you--
But Lord knows in me there's dark,
and holes and scars and tattered dreams
at risk of tearing 'part.
Pretty words can morph into a tongue
that's much more forked than sweet.
Sticks and stones, cold nights alone
with words that cut too deep;
Incisions from decisions made
without a care. It seems
I'm so caught up within myself
that I forget there's other things
and in this life, we only have
a tiny time to make impressions.
I talk in tangents, trip too often,
plus I never learn my lesson--
All these vices and these flaws
and all these f**king imperfections
whisper doubts, and mutter jokes
and keep berating me with questions.
"What's she see?" and "Will she leave?"
and "Why you questioning a blessing?"
"Are you enough?", "Is this too much?"
Hold up, lemme take a second...

I want to be perfect for you, 
but truth?
I don't know how.
I know I won't stop trying
until the day I stop your crying
and the first stanza
that I mentioned
finally reaches
fruition.