She asked me to look; I refused
arguing, “I won’t find a flaw”
and I never have
never looked at the big picture
because I find her in her details
in the pink lipstick racing across the rim of her coffee cup
in her laugh, like bright bells ringing
in the pause of a sentence or the slip of a finger when she’s nervous
I will never find a flaw
and I will never find someone better
someone more elegant, more poised
more inclined to love me at my worst and enjoy me at my best
she is an exhale, and I am the intake
she is the calm, and I am the storm
I say, “I will never find a flaw”
and I am running out of ways to tell her she is beautiful
so I tell her the details instead
Poetry
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