perfect one

so close

but not quite

a few shades from right

seems to be

but leaning on, might

standing on standard

taller than most

boasting a twinkle

like a newly moistened coast

damn near there

 says the eyer

judging it's flair

tilting to the rays

finding it's best side 

and best ways

smiling on cue

not wilting under the dew

but always composed

bowing to few

splaying petals

delicate and fine

harmony played

in tune with whispers of time

graceful in scent

urging to be inhaled

subtly sweeping in

blanketing lightly like a veil

potentially perfect

sweetly supreme

is only true

for floral things

a lady such as i...

 kinda wrong, but so right

has petals that glisten

like covers of snow

in twilight...

perfect on the surface

enemy of the sun

i can never be

anyone's

perfect one

**I write this because I hate to be viewed as if I'm perfect...but perhaps this is my fault. I didn't know that displaying discipline and etiquette...not allowing for my emotions to be so easily read, not giving power to my soul over to anything other than God....could make me susceptible to inaccurate perception. I cry, I lose it, I panic, I get angry, I'm crazy, I'm a mess, I'm needy, I'm apathetic, I'm mean, I'm moody, I'm an asshole, I fuck up, I cuss *lol*, I don't like people....and though these things are minimally me...they still exist within. Maybe, I need to display more of these parts of me...to become more human to people...that way...when displayed...folks won't get scared, easily angered, disgusted or sensitive. I'm a flower, yes...but I'm the flower missing a petal or two...slightly leaning and still beautiful in spite of. Love me or leave me alone.**