It Began All Wrong

''But It began all wrong, '' he thinks to himself.
''The wrong way.
''Wrong is wrong.
It started out shallow, 
almost a prank,
for fun, you know??''

Another conquest
to prove a point
as many other countles, countless times.
He felt powerful, all-omnipotent
and clever.
And invincible
By all.
By love and other nonsense.

So he realises along the way 
it's now gotten to something serious. 
Palpable. 
Cherished by both.

Who did it?
Her yearning?
Or his secret longing?
Who cares?
All it matters is, it's here now.

He realises and tells her so,
tells her, 
so that he soothes his heart
for starting it out the wrong way.
He tells her, ''we need to talk, this is getting serious''

She looks on, wide eyed.
She knows, how could she not?
She is part of his heart now,
so of course she knows.
No need for words to come tumbling out,
she just knows what's in his heart.

He has started craving a simple and true thing
in a world full of fake,
overly complicated
overly irrelevant nonsense.
He wants s o m e t h i n g that fits.
Nicely.
Doesn't wonna hurt her.
This beautiful thing they have,
he wants it all purified.
All perfected, sparkingly clean.
Sanctified.
Dignified.


And the fact it started out all wrong
pains him.
Like a thorn in a rosy, young flesh.
It just doesn't belong there.

He wants to either put it to rights
or release the pain.
Or make everything about it perfect,
to make up for its fake beginning.

''Baby, the word doesn't work this way.
''All dolled up.
''This world we live in?
''Full of mistakes.
''Full of regrets.
''Imperfect.
''Fragile.
''Nothing fits like a glove.
''Nothing is hustle-free, 
pain-free,
wrong-free.''

''You are here
and all I need.''
''Perfection reigns only in fairy tales.''
''Gimme the raw you.
''All of it.
''Real and Raw.
''And Hurting as Hell sometimes.
''Because it's real, in the flesh.
''Imperfectly beautiful 
and so divinely perfect''

I'm done wirth fairy tales'', she says.
''Give me the real, raw thing''.

Then waits, until her message could sink in.

And keeps waiting
for imperfection to surface
and to be lovingly shared.