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A Beautiful Disaster

I lose track of time and spaces and footsteps and places
I no longer can count the thoughts in my head enough to write them down without sounding like a scatttered mess
What is a mess?
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, could my mess be beautiful and generic beauty be disastrous, distorted and unpleasing?
Maybe that is why he loves me
He cherishes the imperfections which I disregard as unattractive, being a perfectionist
I have so much to say but can’t find the words to say it
Am I ok? Will I or we or anyone ever be ok?
Probably not, even if we like to hope so
We are all messes which someone, somewhere, someday will view as perfection

(2015)

#EsteemSelf

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