I say you’re perfect.
Not just to you, but to everyone.
You often think that I am crazy,
That I truly ought to be committed.
You often think that I am lonely,
That I say this to anyone.
You sometimes think that I’m exaggerating,
That I just don’t know you well enough.
You sometimes think that I’m flattering,
That I just want you that badly.
You rarely think that I may see something,
That the world has failed to see in you.
You rarely think that you are perfect,
That the costume you’ve worn so long is real.
You never think that I speak my heart
With the full support and conviction of my mind.
I am not deaf or dumb or blind.
I see your cracks and your flaws.
I see your weakness and your fear.
I hear your need and your worry.
Yet, imperfections they are not.
You worry about hiding them,
And in the hiding you show your strength,
And without them your strength would fade.
But dear, dear girl, know this and know this well:
You haven’t hidden them from me,
And you are still perfect to me,
And I will let you think you hid them.
I see you as you are.
I see what you want to be.
I see where you come from.
I see where you’re going.
I see perfection…
In all its forms…
In all your forms…