Though you are the most perfect I know,
Which implies there is a perfection to strive for,
And a direction in which to go,
That when acheived results in a human being,
That can no longer be called that,
For, what is human but a lack of knowledge,
Of how to truly act?
And when I see you again out and about,
And you smile just in the right way,
I can't say I will not be dissapointed,
For in that moment, you may actually be away.
But it's alright,
As long as you come back,
From that god-forsaken realm of perfection,
To where there's room for love in imperfect gaps.
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