To Be Real Is To Be Mine.

Her lips aren't red as roses,
Her skin has marks and scars,
And when I gaze into her eyes,
It's not like I see stars.

Her breath is not the sweetest,
Her touch not soft and sweet,
She hasn't dainty little hands,
Nor legs long, or small feet.

She doesn't wear a smile,
Every minute of the day,
And when she gets a pimple,
It's often prone to stay.

I wouldn't call her 'beautiful',
But she and I are fine,
She may not be a fairy tale,
But she's real and she is mine.