“Perfect,
Get it perfect.”
What was ‘perfect?’
Perfect grades? Perfect manners?
Perfect charade…
Charade?
I never knew it was pretend…
Just thought fighting and lying and leaving
Was completely normal…
Felt like a broken cocoon with a beautiful butterfly
That’s too scared of the outside world to emerge.
“Perfect,
Just perfect.”
Broken chairs, broken walls, broken hearts.
Fighting wasn’t an ideal perception,
It was everything I breathed, all that I knew.
Strangling the idea of perfection
Until it slipped right through our hands.
Perfectly out of hand and sight
The only thing in sight, in fact, was a hand
Across my mother’s cheek, and only
Because she chose to speak
Well, isn’t that image just perfect?
“Perfect, Caytlin, perfect,”
The answer he gave at that moment
When asked if I believed the marriage would work
I was only eleven… eleven…
What was I supposed to say?
“No.”
Tears ran in perfect streams
Down my mother and sister’s faces
Like rain coming down softly
Calming right after the storm.
My eyes stayed dry because I knew
This was never perfection at all
Just a big misunderstanding
My mother holding onto the edge of the cliff
Because she was too afraid to let go
Of what she knew and fall into the perfect waters.
….perfect?
What is perfect?
Everything that I am not?
The things that I have failed to do?
The people I couldn’t manage to impress?
Perfect is a figment of our imaginations,
Because 'perfect' does not exist.