Wrote this while ill.

Round moon in the sky
Smooth curve of face
Unused dimples
In two round cheeks

Simple features
Quiet beauty
Skin like frost
Barely touchable

Expression like dew
Caught on a web
There in the morning
Faded by night

Body constructed
With a ruler
Precise measurements
Become her identity

Can't you see?
She's imperfect
Perfection just out of reach
Always

Don't you know?
She's reaching for it
On one toe, stretched
But one day she'll fall.