The Reflection of Your Eyes

You look at me

I canít see what you see.

You stroke my face,

I close my eyes

and trace the flaws across my skin.

As I follow your touch,

scars, blemishes, imperfections

are my only thoughts.

Is there a pedestal

that I canít see?

Because that fall

might finish me.

Iím not perfect,

I never claimed otherwise.

I only wish

that I could be

that reflection

in your eyes.

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