Imperfect

You're wrought iron embellished
An industrial rose in a primeval garden
A mirror blotted with lipstick

You're shadows illuminated
Shaken alabaster curves and a steady gaze
Your skirt swishes with hope
with expectation

You're roof shingles frosted with the dust of dreams
A winged heart trapped on a lonely earth
A fugitive from a puzzle factory

If all of earth is made of numbers then why
am I entranced by your word covered soul?

I want to make love to your smile.