She


She is perfect in every way,
fitting into your pocket,
speaking to you with her silken voice
and thick maple syrup eyes

I do not blame you for your obsession.
Her laugh like flower petals
fluttering across pastel skies,
she is a shiny penny on cracked pavement,
catching your eye with every glimmer.

I am imperfect in every way,
poking at you like tags in new clothes,
coming undone as a book with lost binding,
pulling and prying to get into your heart.

Comparing rusty sewage pipes,
to twisted straws in colorful cocktails.
It would be ridiculous to choose
the girl with marshmallow cheeks
and tangled hair.

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