When I was younger
I imagined my perfect man.
He was strong and tall
he spoke with no doubt at all.
Whenever I was sad
I would think of my perfect man
and cherish the thoughts, live for what had been foretold
of meeting him and being his to have and to hold
As I got older
The image of my perfect man had changed
He was not as strong, he wasn't as tall
The timbre of his voice was not the same at all.
Though he's not the same
I adore him so much more
With his brilliance, along with his flaws and ability to make me laugh
I imagine him as my perfect imperfect better half.
