Where Every Flaw

I start with the truth of you,

the way your presence settles into me

like a familiar rhythm I never quite learned

but somehow always knew.

There’s a softness in the way you breathe,

a quiet strength in how you simply

exist beside me,

steady, warm, and entirely real.

I watch you laugh,

watch you overthink,

watch you try to hide the pieces

you think are too jagged

to be seen up close.

But those edges are the places

my hands go first,

as if they recognize their home

before my mind does.

Then everything turns,

not sharply,

but with the slow grace

of a door drifting open

to a room I’ve never entered

yet somehow belong in.

I realize it isn’t the polished parts of you

that pull me in.

It’s the uneven corners,

the moments you stumble,

the way you hope no one noticed

even though I always do,

and love you more because of it.

You are a mosaic

stitched from brilliance

and the quiet doubts you try to outrun.

And I adore every piece,

every unexpected angle,

every small truth you think you hide.

Love isn’t perfection,

it’s the heartbeat found

in all the places we once thought

were unlovable.

And with you,

every one of those places

feels like a miracle

that chose to stay.