Do we fall in love with those who see us
for our virtues..
Or those who see us for our scars?
Those who see in us a perfect form
that we approximate..
Or those who see us..
As we truly are.

At the core of every lovely pearl
there lies an imperfection.
At the site of nucleation..
A piece of debris.
And without it..
Would there be a luster
for the naked eye to see?