I am guilty of misjudgement,
Guilty of seeing the good.
I thought I’d figured out your flaws;
Was happy that I had identified each one.
And while they added up,
They only made you imperfectly perfect.
Don’t worry, I’m aware of my own flaws too. They’re recorded in my mind like twisted trophies in a locked cabinet
Becoming devoid of space.
Many are only visible to me,
And I struggle to understand how their prominence goes unnoticed by passers-by.
In your cabinet was a trapdoor held shut by admiration and trust.
It lay far behind the small collection of polished cups,
Obscured from view and difficult to see past the shiny glint of the rose-stained glass.
It lay safely shut until one day
The guards left their posts.
The door fell open to reveal a stack of ugly truths,
The prettiest lies were released,
And now they dance away into the air,
Free to entertain the next admirer.
Careful – for they may put up a bigger fight than me.