I am flaws.
I am a badly written love poem.
I am an inability to finish what I start.
I am not-so-clandestine worries that I'm neglecting you, or that I'm holding onto you too tightly,
Or that I might not be worth all you are.
You are forgiveness.
You are inspiration to take up pen and paper and write again.
You are focus, grounding me when other things try and pull me away.
You are unbridled reassurance, sweet words and kept promises,
And tight embraces and exhales of calm.
I am flaws, and you've forgiven every inch of me.
The tips of my fingers, my lips, the length of my hair.
The smooth and easy sides, and the most difficult parts to love.
You've forgiven me.
You are also flaws.
And I will be forgiveness.
Because I love you.