Every lie that I've ever heard,
And every story that was never true,
All these misconceptions have made me worry,
That true love wasn't so true.

It's made me worry that you weren't as perfect,
So quirky and enigmatic,
It made me worry that I was too lovesick
For so many dramatics.

All of those deceits,
All of those lies,
Everything imperfect,
Has made me open up my eyes.

I can tell that you aren't an angel,
Nor a devil in disguise,
I know that you're vengeful,
And can still be chastised.

So I see
That you can be
Something other than un-tarnished.
Impeccable, you are not,
Excellent so you seem,
But no matter how imperfect you are,
You will still be cherished.

Because you are special,
But not in some other worldly sense.
No, you are simply special
In that ordinary tense.

And I still love you.
No matter how un-extraordinary you are.
 
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