The storm that came, and went away

gave me the time to write today.

No point in thought, no point in rhyme

but this all placed in perfect time: 

I gave you my word, confessed to thee.

I gave you my song, and bowed my knee.

I told you the truth, my secret slain

then rested my body all through the pain.

I gave you my heart, I gave you my soul.

My body abandoned; a soulless hole.

My love I have given and all is a curse.

The moral, dear friends, I end with a verse:

Do not aim for perfection, or beauty alone.

Don’t aim for a voice with a powerful tone.

Just aim for the one whose love will stay,

and though imperfect will love you anyway.

-Maqui Rivera