even from the outside,
you were never perfect
your uneven windows,
your mismatched shutters,
your rusted doorbell
and that is how I fell in love
because perfect is lonely
too polished, too sterile,
fragile beauty easy to break
but that was never you;
in you, I could picture myself living:
your stained carpets,
your warm smells,
your comfortable clutter
in you, I can be me

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