Perfection is an illusion of things harmoniously falling into places where you’d imagine them to be. It is subjective; it differs from each and every person’s perception. It may found in something as little as a cupcake, all the way up to a million dollar house. It can be seen between couples holding hands walking down the aisle while church bells ring.
But me, I found it with you.
Your eyes and smile, every detail etched in your face. Perfect.
My version of perfect is you.
We do not need to ponder any longer with words that I speak. I know that all these words wouldn’t possibly be able to describe an entity as miraculous as you. I’ve spent days, months, even years, trying to figure out the composition of words that would capture how majestic you are as person, how wonderfully crafted by the one above. Sadly, I failed, because mere words cannot comprehend what beauty you possess.
I often wonder how our paths intertwined, but I am thankful that He led me to an angel like you.
I know I might not be much, perhaps a misfit, another cause of misdirection, another annotation in your book of revelations. But please let me stay, even just for a while and I’ll let you see your worth.
I’ll love, my perfect. I’ll make you mine.