Blemished

My face,
My love,
Is not without its blemishes.
Out in the sun and the moon,
Tanned, and scarred.
No pretense.

My face,
My love,
Is adulterated.
By hundreds of imperfections,
By thousands of memories.
Daunted and haunted.

My face,
My love,
Is not the best in the world.
But it is one of the many.
Smiling amidst heartbreaks,
Crying and laughing,
With you or without you.

My face,
My love,
Is not without its blemishes,
Is adulterated,
Is big enough to see and be seen,
Yet not enough,
To love and be loved.

शंतनु ( Shantanu )

Frida Kahlo: Self-portrait with thorn necklace
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