If I was flawless
Would it be easier?
Easier than to have to deal with the day to day bumps?
The grit. Seeing
beyond the fingerprints and the cracks.
Or harder.
No comparison of the smoothness of your handle
To the fact that my edge is chipped
No salving the wound of the scratch that might be lurking
With the fragments of the gash running across me
I’m not sure.
I can keep on
Buffing, polishing, gluing
I’ll never get there
And maybe I’ll be close enough
And still far enough
That you will set yourself upon me
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