Virtue itself ‘scapes not calumnious strokes.

Perfection ain’t sexy.
A spotless surface seem unreal, untouchable, distant.
It’s the dabs of mess
That really highlight our humanity.
Virtue without calumnious strokes
Is not virtue at all
But a fantasy
An ideal, chiseled into rock and polished out of form.
I fall harder in love with imperfection every day.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.