You could have had me with a word,
the slightest invitation would have brought me
flying to your arms but you fought
like a legion of demons – dark, determined –
against what we both know was meant to be.
A gulf as wide as an ocean is what you built instead,
shutting me away from fulfilling the dictates of the stars.
And the hell of it is you won’t let go;
you keep me on the hook, barbed and bloody,
that you brandish every once in a blue moon or so.
I was with you the other night, you know.
Did you sense me lying with you in you bed of pain?
I knew you needed comfort so I came, unbidden, to supply it.
I know you are afraid because you are not perfect.
I could feel you trembling, still, when I awoke.
Do I care? Am I looking for perfection?
Love is not finding a perfect person,
it is loving an imperfect person perfectly,
so forgive me if I now say “Damn you!”
for making it impossible.
© 2012 RC deWinter
On recognizing what is meant to be but being prevented from bringing it to fruition.