I'm a poet, as you know. As a poet, I spend most of my days seeking people who are perfect in their existence. You know, people who write my poems for me just by being who they are. I have a tendency to fall in love with people whose flaws are perfectly beautiful. People who I can't figure out.. those that are a complete enigma to me and keep me guessing. I love people who I will just never understand. They are beautiful to me because their existence is so complicated that I can't even find my own words to describe them... their words show themselves to me.
They stand there in the environment that they are a part of (the environment that assists them in their mystery) and the words just fucking come to me. It's weird. As a poet, I find that invaluable. I look for these people.. I always do. And when I find them, I never let them leave my sight. They are there forever, being who they are and writing poems for me.
I found a new one recently. A person so dark and mysterious and perfect in every single flaw. Each flaw is as important as each stroke in a brilliant painting, and I wouldn't change any of them for anything. Every single flaw is necessary to the whole. Remove a flaw, you remove everything.
He's perfect. I want to write him but I can't. He's writing himself for me. I'm so thankful for people like this.
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