He was not a perfect man, but she loved him with a perfect
love. A love as pure as the little white
dress with embroidered flowers that she wore.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a job, his strong arms
were all the security that she needed.
It didn’t matter that the streets had made him hard, because
her gentle soft kisses softened him so that he turned into a pile of mush.
It didn’t matter that some may look at him and call him a
thug, because what she saw was her superhero.
It didn’t matter how ugly life had been to him, because her
lovely mocha face was so beautiful that when he saw her, the sheer brilliance of
it blocked out every single negative thing in the world.
He had been a sinner, a chief sinner. So for the life of him he could not
understand what he had done deserve this beautiful little angel.
He was not a perfect man, but she loved him with a perfect
love. A love as pure as the little white
dress with embroidered flowers that she wore.
It was a loved that saved him.
