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Sometimes a phrase sticks in my heart. The words thrum in rhythm to emotions and unheard music, unheard by everyone but me. Music and melody are poor descriptors of what plays within my psyche. Love knows so many forms and manifestations. This phrase would not let go of me. Usually when something moves me like this, if I don’t write it down, the words disintegrate into the universe. “Exquisite Imperfections” has demanded itself to be written.

Another odd thing with this poem is that I usually write the poem then go back and write this preamble. The poem is not written as yet. Here goes…

Exquisite Imperfections

You cannot imagine what the sound of your name in my mind does to me
A calm touch in an emotional storm
A soft brush of our lips in a moment of sadness
An intertwining of fingers on a gentle melancholy day
Your imagined head on my shoulder as our sun melts into dusk

We float, surreal beings in my heart and mind
When I dare, I dream of your exquisite imperfections
In this world, anything perfect is a lie
Each of us stumbles through our days
At times with grace…other times with farcical collapse

I’ve known the pain of love for far too long
More from love’s lie than from its loss
Imperfections too painful to continue
Exposing love’s ultimate absence
Which stands as the most painful of lies

But you…

Your name thrills me, for it reminds me of the joy of life
Though your exquisite imperfections are denied me
I cherish the dream of their discovery
A quest I could spend my life pursuing
To revel in their ultimate truth…

And my love yearns to adore them
For we are no lie…

 

I always find curiosity’s wonder as the words tumble from my heart into my fingers and onto the screen. At times I wish to reign the words in, to sculpt them, to give them form. When I successfully resist the temptation I notice they take on a life of their own. A form of their own. Possibly just in my My Own World (lol!) yet there are those who read and enjoy and connect and understand. This is the golden reward for a writer – to know he/she touched another in a positive manner in this life.

Don’t mistake that word “positive” to mean everything must be written Pollyanna. The sad, aching writing of a tortured soul brings connection as well. The positivity of knowing someone else feels as you may be that special bond or moment where you’re lifted up and you don’t feel quite as lonely or downtrodden or full of pain as you did before the words touched you.

My thoughts this beautifully rainy, dreary evening…