Perfect

At the slightest shift of your hands to the unconscious curve of your lips when you suppress a smile.

And when you pout when you disagree to whatever I said.

Seeing you at those times makes my knees go weak.

Crazy at it seems, but I love it when you cry over those silly books you read when its characters die as if it’s a real person close to you.

Everything about you is perfect, more so are your imperfections.

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