Him Pt.3 His Flaws

 Slow as dusk slipping down the sky, he fumbles with keys, tripping over the simplest tasks. Yet those eyes- those burning, unrelenting eyes- sear through every defense I’ve ever built.

They know me deeper than I know myself, and still forget the little things I tell him. 

It unravels me.

How can such brilliance lose its footing in the smallest places? How can perfection live inside a vessel so flawed?

I ache with the weight of loving him. But love is not born in smooth edges.

It roots itself in fractures; it climbs through imperfections; it learns to breathe where others cannot. And so, even when my patience trembles, my heart insists on choosing him.

I choose the pauses that break me, the forgetfulness that stings, the slowness that tests the very bone of me. Because in every flaw lies the proof that he is not a dream- but HIM.

The man impossible to perfect, yet impossible to release. The man who is my undoing, my fury, my solace, my fire. And no matter how many flaws I name,

I will always find myself choosing- Him.