The Trouble with Bonding
My fractures run deep
with jagged curves back in time
misaligned by variances between
what was and what should’ve been.
to be whole
again and again,
blending my façade
with her charade,
becoming a beautiful lie
the moment we tried
rocky weather together
whenever and wherever
our rhyme got sloppy and
We pointed out each other’s flaws
and clawed ourselves apart. My heart
mistook love for a pleasure found
into the next girl’s
repeatedly pressed this error
into her replacement’s bed too,
but she fled my good intentions
just as I was finding leverage
to press solid meaning into her…
Are these mildly lewd sex metaphors
doing anything for you? Because
I could probably say plainly that
I had mostly good sex
with mostly good women
for mostly bad reasons
not for love, pleasure,
not even for affection
mostly, a self-deception
as I mostly engaged in the self-delusion
that I loved them
or that I loved myself, when
I was clearly too broken to do either,
but I suppose it’s better that I couch it
in some wrecked flower and
tangled bedsheet nonsense.
I’m wrecking the rhythm of this poem.
I apologize. Now, where was I?
Into her wake,
serene surface broken
by her rippling,
deep with jagged
curves back in time
by variances between
what was her own brokenness and
what should’ve been
her pristine perfection that
should’ve saved us both
Looking back, I know now that her imperfections
were perfectly wondrous and uniquely lovely.
But it took another woman with her own unique
deep, jagged, fractures curving into my own
that helped me appreciate my own failings
from wondrous newly tacked angles.
This poem is uneven
and not as pretty
as I had hoped it would be.
But it is pure gold
where it needs to be.
Written for Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Kintsugi: Art of Mending, Posted by Sumana Roy.