I've seen its face
I know its touch
I know what it tastes like
and how it smells
I could drink perfection
until the morning comes
It is just out of my reach
But not out of my fingers
I cannot hold it
and keep it close
but I can knead my knuckles
into the muscles
that hold it up, though
It's just that perfection doesn't seem to know
Just how perfect I am for him
just how lovely this thing could be
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