What you deem as fallacies are what make you perfect to me. Golden down that only seems to accompany your cheeks after the summer sun has blushed your beloved face in hues of pink. Radiant flecks of gold infusion within the deep wells of sapphire that grace your eyes, tiny explosions of chemistry. The way you reveal a crooked smile directly after your nose would crinkle in anticipation of a sneeze that would never come. I see you clearly, dithering around the living room, a hesitation in your otherwise sure stride as you belatedly remember that something demands your attention. What was it? It was remotely important you know but you struggle to recall. Realization dawns, washing the confusion from exquisite eyes, fierce resolution consuming the haze obscuring those depths. It’s these beautiful quirks that burn in my mind, these so called imperfections that I envision when sleep eludes me. In the darkest hours before dawn, my hours of reverie, my moments of solace.

Published by D Vaughan