do you remember when we were young
we sat on my living room floor cutting out delicate hearts of paper
you couldn't stop, you said, until you made the perfect one
the lopsided, the glue stained, the misshapen all fell
a wispy cloud of pink at our feet
you lay the final product of years of hard work into
my small cupped hands - trembling
oh it was perfect
lovingly shaped, patiently crafted
faintly worn in all the right places
i'll treasure it forever
alongside the others
they were all perfect to me
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