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Joys of Imperfection

You speak of imperfections
to me a pleasing blemish worthy of knowing.
Your hand shelters the childhood wound that bent
perfect beauty into something more lovely.
I pull your hand away and smile into your hurt eyes.

The scar on your cheek is now a fractured bloom
pushing frantically against the harshness of past hurts.
Your beauty courses up thorough frozen soil to bring new life.

Let me kiss your broken petals and rest my lips against your cheek.
My fingers feel the raised edges of your scar as
imperfect lips wrap me in affection.
Oh God, your tender smile receiving my warm salve that bears a flawed
but fervent witness to joys that might follow suffering.
Written by LostViking (Lost Viking)
Published
Author's Note
I knew a girl who was bitten by a dog as a child. She often sheltered her cheek with her hand. She had an allure about her. Something magic happened when I pulled her hand away and smiled at her scar.
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