Imperfections

Imperfections

I am not perfect.
Can you not see my weaknesses?
The insecurities that dangle from my fingertips,
the rough spots where my soul
shows through the broken skin?
The red spots where my heart’s bled through.
Can you sense the weariness,
the heaviness in my mind?
Where the soft edges have broken away.
I’m still mending the place where
my heart was ripped form my chest,
leaving shreds of dignity,
and a loose cavity full of loss.
And I know you see
the shadows at the corners of my eyes,
darkness radiating from the centers,
blocking my self away.
I cannot hide the soft sadness
that turns down the corners of my lips,
crisscrosses the scars on my legs -
bruises that won’t fade.
There’s nothing I can hide, although I try
to disguise my sallow cheeks,
hide my angry frown,
my sad smile.
I am not perfect,
but I am not meant to be.