the perfect love

There isn’t the perfect life
The perfect place to sit and listen
the perfect place to cuddle in
the perfect place to feel
there isn’t
there is life
this living part of us.

There is a place
we sit
we listen
we argue it out
I close my ears up
as I think of the words
and we feel unheard
angered at the thought
of not being wanted
because the living part in me
thinks through it all
feeling hurt
feeling confused
filled of words
that can be written
but when spoken
parts are often missing.

There isn’t the perfect life
the perfect place
the perfect love
the perfect person
there is you
there is me
there is love
I feel it
somedays I smother it beneath my anger
beneath the worries of the human-made
beneath the wars of the people scattered about
beneath the worry of losing
of your heart stopping
of the children slipping
I smother it beneath the worry
the part of me
thinking of the horrors of death
thinking that one day
I shall be ready
I won’t
thinking that the best for me
closing my eyes first
would be the worst for you.

There isn’t the perfect life
the perfect place
even with that thought
I can hear your heart
I can feel a relief
when I’m cuddled close
even if there isn’t perfect
and we aren’t the picture of it all
you are
and I am
love.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina