ALMOST PERFECT...

 

                      

 

She knows,  

everything has its own imperfections and flaws  

ebb and flow, high and lows

intricated turns, a while, for everyone to pause

She owns a journey

gracefully embraced on her soul

wishes to be in an unbroken trail,

for at the end, herself to be found, her only goal

 

But sometimes,

she just wish something to be placidly perfect

like the poem she writes, her straight freezy hair, her acne marks on face

time she spends with her loved ones, what her world really meant

She daydreams in her thoughts

entangled with idea of perfection in every shape

tears down her reality holding forlorn imagination,

an worthless attempt to escape

 

On her journey,

strength of fortitude nonchalantly moving away with every bond she created,            

letting go off her hands,

in destiny’s baffled array, completely abnegated

I told her,

everything around her was always the almost perfect but never the one

Universe too kept telling her signs time and again

until she’s done

it looks at her

all shattered, hurt, broken pleading to heal

crumbled enough in pieces

nowhere to amend or seal

but I know her every versions, phases, chapters

then and now

She pulled through, survived all the storms alone

and sometimes in awe, I just wonder HOW ?

(big sigh of relief)

 

Once,

when everything was falling apart in rush

you were calm to her chaos

an epilogue to quest of perfection

like a remedy to her bruises and cuts

like a lifetime vow for love

a canvas for the art’s protection

fighting her demons ,

how she loved the shadow of her own reflection

but you knew from the start

even penguin’s promises for lifetime are going to drift apart

you knew from the start

she would have waited for years

risking her healing of life she commenced

only to overcome your fears

she would have written books about you anyway

If you had a sentence,

a word, a letter or even a silence to say

She waited…

Her doors were closed but never truly locked

Only to find out the door was never even tried to be knocked

She is tired…

She doesn’t want to be synonym of strong anymore

cursed even on the times she was not wrong before

all the unspoken words and blames

their dignity lies in honor’s summit, while hers all in flames

 

Her every letters are carved unswervingly from her heart

dripping out of blood of her emotion

but for some reason

her words always misses the perfect endings

the flow, rhythm, pattern and rhyme that she imagines to be perfect seems descending

and she torn down pages and pages

to settle down for almost perfect rhymes

but it was everything she was seeking for the ages

The time moves in its lane

she expects it to be more perfect the more it passes

not holding the timeless present it gives

as it leaves her soon with ashes of memories

And she sits back, remembering while it slips out of her hand

slowly and silently without even taking a stand

 

 

I cannot rewind her every acts

but I wish she hears me and she knows,

Perfection is not what she lacks

I promise,

world’s every creations are not without a blemish

if you can comprehend your mistakes and work on it,

is completely a bliss

So,

give out your love, be kind, be selfless, be vulnerable, ask for help

its all okay, my love,

because without any deceitful intentions ,

one is always perfect for oneself

And Cavil Criticism is something what the world will take

but why should you care?

Aren’t you the only one your life depends to make or break?

 

So, 

Oneday,

I hope she becomes almost perfect poetess for her words

I hope she becomes almost perfect companion for her love

to be heard, to be seen

But I hope,

She understands she is already perfect for her

And

She always has been…