Imperfect Poem

You are a perfectly

imperfect fitting glove,

and this is why you are no simple,

ordinary love.


You are an authentic work

of unusually abstract art;

for this reason, alone, you have bound me

to your heart.


The intriguingly obtuse oddity

of contrast built into your core

was not put there for me to resist,

and so easily ignore.


Your behavior leaves me forever wondering

and disturbingly perplexed;

Thus, I am continually working overtime

to unravel its weird, off-beat context.


You nonchalantly tie up buttons,

as you habitually snap on the lace;

and, rowing your car hurriedly to the finish line,

you yearn somberly for fifth place.


Like a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle

with a piece always missing (or maybe more),

you remain wholly unsolvable;

so, never will I walk away, or wander out the front door.




Imperfect Poem

Tamara Yancosky


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