maybe

i wish you knew

how much i care,

wish you could see yourself,

from my side.

you'd count your faults

on the fingers of both hands,

i'd trace them with mine.

you'd count your flaws

on the toes of both feet,

i'd file them down;

then i'd count

each reason

of why

i am

so glad

i met you

on the strands of your hair,

on the lashes of your eye,

and on the creases

and the cells

of your skin;

and then after

i'd count myself out,

you'll trace yours with mine

and run your faults

through my hair

too.