I love your depression and I love your double chin. I love most everything you bring to this offering.

Nobody is perfect.
We all fuck up.
Often in small doses, sometimes on more monumental scales.

So, I don't care that your underwear doesn't always match.
I don't care that you get occasional spots, bare the scars of children and would rather turn the light out before you undress.
Just the fact that you felt close enough to let me in a little, is more than enough. On a par with something monumental.

Is it too much to ask that you don't care either?

I can forgive your knickers on the floor, if you can forgive me turning my back.

I feel like I could write a song about you.
But maybe not just now.