When you asked me about perfection,
My heart skipped a beat
I realised it was a question-
So hard to even mention
And yet crucial to be given attention.
From the bosom of your pulchritude
I realised I had seen that bit
Of a complete build
And yet my emotion was pointless.

From the crown of your dark- or,
Rather your thick black curled hair
To the sole of your baby-like feet
All seen to me is the word perfection.
The tension and curiosity that
was manufactured in the inside of me...
Meant the adoration of your physique.

Somewhat I don't look to see anywhere else
In this atmosphere
Because right in my face
I see a great deal of fulfillment
That is in you and in your mistakes
In your personal dissatisfaction
Lies an inestimable articulation
And yet you seem not to see it.

Rather I yearn to be with you
So that some day I can partake
Of your perfection, and restate;
That I'd call imagination in my phase
Darling, I want to sing the song of your name
Because those melodies are made perfect
By that, your propitious entity.