Perceptions

I don't know if I trust my memories of you,
with each recollection they're rewritten.
Am I a slave to a perception of supposed perfection?
I have you painted in water colors,
faded and picturesque,
framed in what could be unhealthy
obsession to recreate you
in every moment.
A memory of a memory of you
has too much potential to ruin me.
As a result,
I can't trust me.
And, by association,
I don't think I can trust you.
Please,
(Stand still.)
I need to remember you
exactly as you are.