this love is imperfect.
crying and throbbing
trying to catch its breath.
looking at each other
for the answer.
the next move.
But our dumb minds
don’t know what’s best
or how.

we stare at each other
with tears and
crooked hearts.
this love can be so painful.
our time and words hurt.
How can wounds cause growth?

Show us the truth in that,
for now it is hard to see.
and tears and heaving,
and the weight of our flaws
do not help.

I hope these are our roots
taking place-
grabbing ahold of
the solid earth.
Growing pains.
Keeping us as one
with something.
We are battling for the
best spot to lay
each root.
Sometimes I win.
Sometimes you do.
Sometimes we both lose,
knowing that where we want
our root is not where it should be.

So, we cry,
we ache,
and we stare from across the room
looking for our hint,
our instructions,
our manual.
Why don’t we know
what this love should do?

Hugging you is easy.
This is not.
So I move to you, hug you,
and we cry together
as our hearts are pulled
in ways they should
and shouldn’t go
this side of heaven.
Remembering the imperfections of this love.