Endless Imperfections

Riding the carousel of
eternal perfection―
where indistinguishable
moments swirl in an endless
congruency of nothingness.
Roads paved with gold led to mansions
adorned with crystal chandeliers―
housing patrons
having conversations
that led to nowhere.
No mystery or discovery.
No longing or fulfillment.
No yearning or satisfaction.
Stagnant perfection—
a negation of life.

You, my love, are anything
but perfection.
You reside within the cracks and crevices
of a shattered skull
repaired with devotion.
The chemical breakdown
of ink and paper
usher in the scent of
a nostalgic love.
You are life―
a material embodiment feeding
my insatiable appetite for meaning.
Please, promise me
an eternity of your
endless imperfections.