She pictured perfect
He thought perfect was a fool’s delusion,
She was a victim of an undesirable fate,
But had the courage to seek absolution.
But then, one day he met her,
And the fool he once thought of was the fool he now became,
He went in search of perfect,
Well, he had no one but himself to blame.
She liked him,
Though he was a fool, he could tell,
Spending time with each other,
They both hit it off quite well.
Though he was in a good place,
Her past was not behind her,
She needed some space,
To once again become a believer.
He wanted to save her,
Thought she was a keeper,
But she was too afraid,
To fall for someone deeper.
Ropes tied to her feet,
Dragged by the darkness of her past,
Not allowing her to keep,
Faith, in herself she must trust.
She still believes in perfect,
A picture he badly wants her to create,
So he gave her a canvas, a brush,
And each other as paint.
When she picked up the brush,
He realized it was such,
That their story and its conclusion,
Was based on a fool’s delusion.