Sincerity

Arms, reaching, a cradle of thought.
Melodramatic misgivings are ignored.
So what if I can’t speak beautifully?
There’s meaning in every word that I unravel
To take the fear apart
And expose all the rehearsed ugliness, the cogs and gears.
Love is a line you read from a book
A stolen quote from some unsuspecting author
Who deserves much better
Than to have their artistry
Tarnished once spoken from a mouth like yours.
I do not need
perfection.
But could you find
sincerity?
Somewhere among all the beautiful words
I have found a lonely parasite.
What am I supposed to do?