What a cliche thing to say, I know. Believe me, I know.
I’m not saying you don’t have flaws and I’m not saying you don’t make mistakes. But how could I say they’re imperfections when they’re a part of you and make you, well you.
People have broken you more times than once. And you’ve managed to gather up the broken pieces and put yourself back together. But some pieces are still missing, so your sharp edges poke out like thorns. But I’m not scared to be cut by them, darling. Show me your rough edges, show me your dark thoughts, show me the worst in you- I’ll still be standing here saying you’re perfect by the end.
Your hearts guarded as if it’s been put inside a box and the box is locked and the key was thrown in the ocean for the one person willing to dive deep to find it. I’m the diver and if the key is buried a hundred feet under sand and rocks, I’ll dig.
Your arms feel more like home than my little house filled with my belongings. I sleep more soundly on your chest listening to the rhythm of your beating heart than I do in my own bed. I feel safer with your fingers wrapped around mine than I would in a room guarded with a million armed men.
Your apologies scream sincerity. Your soul speaks of forgiveness. Your words calm the panic inside my mind. Your love is entire. As is mine for you.