You’re not worth my time,
With your insecurities, profligacy, and secrecy;
Not worth the hours I could waste
Conjuring all possibilities in which I could make you smile.

You’re not worth the breaths I could take,
Striving to subsist just to keep you happy—
The doses of oxygen you would never cherish,
The dedication you would never fathom.

You’re not worth these words I write you
Or the obsession I will pore over this piece
To ensure its immaculacy—
A measure you can never parallel.

You’re not worth anything, for you see in me my flaws,
My impotence, my impuissance, my failures, my deprivations;
Measured against your muse, I’m a portrait of imperfection.
But a secret I will impart to you, my dear:
No one in this world is perfect,
And that includes you.


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