I'm not perfect.
I shake, I cry, I laugh,
And most of the time I'm afraid.
Not of you,
Not of us,
Not even of the future.
Just afraid.
That same old yet familiar ache that
buries my heart everyday
when the that four letter word comes to mind.
I’m afraid.
Afraid of being hurt.
Afraid of loss.
Afraid to fall.
Afraid I’ll fall so hard that you might not actually be there to catch me.
I know you say your always going to be there for me,
And it's not that I doubt that,
It's just the ache.
The ache of knowing how real it is
in our world for things to just happen...
You might not have meant to do it,
You might not have known you did,
But it hurt.
Those "things" that just happen are the ones that hurt.
The things that make me doubt myself.
The things that make me doubt how you feel about the deep blue eyes staring into your heart every single breath they take.
I just want to find some hard substance that screams perfection.
That we have perfection.
But the reality is that the four letter word that makes me quiver when your near isn't bound by perfection.
It's bound by a multitude of feelings
that progress in an unexplainable grace that only you and me can see.
It's bound by hope.
Hope for you,
Hope for us,
And hope for the future.
Those deep blue eyes may not be perfect,
but their perfect for you,
to catch you if you fall.