Imperfect

He studied her from his perch across the fire. She'd been writing something in her notebook, head bowed, teeth nibbling on her lower lip as she worked. It was hard not to notice the brilliant blue that highlighted her raven black hair, or the way it fell around her shoulders and down her back. It brought his attention to the pale glow of her skin, the dark feather of her eyelashes hiding the sparkling brown of her eyes.

She was the mirror image of a goddess, her beauty radiating from the inside out. She was gentle, kind and loving, her heart always worn for the world to see, and he loved her more for it.

She was perfect.

She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, and more.

He watched her gradually relax, her fingers loosening on the pen she wrote with, her head falling forward ever so slightly as her weariness moved to claim her in sleep. He smiled, standing to walk toward her. She was diligent in everything she did, whether protecting their mismatched little family, or working on the writing she kept so private.

He'd often wondered what it was that she wrote, what could bring the soft smiles to her face one minute, and salty tears to her eyes the next. But he never asked. Perhaps one day she would tell him. Until then, he'd tuck her into bed as he always did, making sure she was warm, her work tucked safely into her bag. Then he'd wonder back to his place by the fire to make sure nothing and no one could harm the woman who owned every fiber of his heart.

Moving her gently, he laid her down covering her small frame with a blanket before brushing a loving kiss across her slightly parted lips. He moved from her then taking her notebook with him to her bag.

It was one word that caught his attention- one word that pulled his gaze across the paper, the beautiful handwriting that kept him reading.

Imperfect…

I've often heard that beauty and physical perfection are what attracts people to each another. Men fall for women who are beautiful, whose lips are full and kissable, and whose skin is free of the blemishes so many of us are born with. And women long for that eternally handsome man, the one who is as physically perfect as he is strong.

And I am no different. I can appreciate the beauty of a man's physique, and the strength held within their bodies.

But that is where my similarities differ.

You see, I fell for a man many consider imperfect. But for me he is perfect because of his imperfections. He is handsome, yet doesn't see it, and doesn't flaunt it. In fact, he is indifferent to it - as if he doesn't see the male beauty he carries. And he is more beautiful for it.

He is brutally honest, though most consider it to be rudeness. He doesn't fake his emotions, or try to be something he isn't. He is simply who he is, and I would take him over any man out there.

You see, we are all imperfect in some way. Men and women can be physically beautiful, with perfect hair and skin, but when they open their mouths they become the ugliness their outer shell doesn't show.

It's the imperfections that make us different, the imperfections that make us look past the outer shell.

And I would take imperfect over perfect any day.

He closed the notebook before tucking it gently into the folds of her bag. Turning, he allowed his gaze to fall to the woman sleeping behind him, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

She was perfection to his imperfection, and one day he fully intended to show her.

End

Hi all.

I'm sorry it has been so long. I had intended to work on the next chapter for Silhouette, but that hasn't worked out.

I've had four surgeries since May 23, the last being on Friday, and I am still sore. But this popped into my head a few hours ago, so I hurried to get it typed before going to bed. I am certain this could use some editing, but it is what it is. I'll recheck it later on. It's not much, but it's more than I have been able to do for the last little while. I am doing better, and the doctor's say that once I heal from these surgeries, I will no longer feel the pain I have been in, and that this should last for about a year. Hopefully I can get back to a more timely schedual, and write all the stories that are swimming in my head. But unfortunately, it will be a little while longer before I can get back to posting regularly.

Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed this small piece. It was nice to write something again. I am sorry I haven't had the time to reply to all your reviews, but they've kept me moving forward so that I can get back to writing again.

Neisha