Imperfect Perfection
Dealing with death
Published in
May 29, 2024
True love isn’t perfect.
It’s holey, cracked, mended, and ragged.
It’s conflicted memories, what-ifs, and I-wishes.
It’s missed opportunities and flashes of brilliance.
It’s all the good and so much of the bad,
wrapped and melded into the real.
It’s all that was, all that could be,
and all that never will be.
It’s wishing for a recorded voice,
one more kiss, a soft hand,
and more memories on the horizon.
It’s wishing for a last goodbye
that time didn’t grant.
It’s knowing that our love wasn’t perfect
but complete in all its tattered beauty.
It’s knowing that our love was and is
and always will be, even when we aren’t.
You left, unwilling, unwanting,
forced into another realm,
but our love remains here,
in all its imperfect perfection.
© Dennett 2024
