Published: 28-Oct-2004
She isn’t perfect, no.
Nor does she possess an outer beauty that is envied by others.
Soft? Not like most.
She’s anything but silk.
She lacks grace and confidence.
Even cold at times.
Not the type of cold from an artic wind.
Cold as in what emptiness would feel like.
She’s demanding.
Never can admit when she’s wrong.
Always to have the last word, giving little room for error.
She doesn’t care much for romance.
Wine is to drink, not to be savored.
Candles are only used when needed.
She isn’t perfect, no.
So why her?
Why be with someone who’s short of tenderness?
Who turns away from a public kiss?
Denies you the right for comfort and companionship?
Why?
Because she picked me.
With all my faults and shortcomings, she choose me over all the rest.
Perfect? I’m anything but perfect.