Some Sort Of Perfection Poem by Elizabeth Haasch

So here I am dreaming, wishing for the day you’ll come back.
When life will seem some kind of normal for me again.
Some kind of decent perfection of your radiance
I’ve seen fly through the clouds in which we soar.
Here I stand wondering where I’m standing.
Where you’re standing. What you’re thinking.
Wondering if you too are asking the same questions.
Here I am.
There I was saddened with the thought of ever losing you
and now that I have I don’t know what saddened is
because I’m so numb.
I can’t think, speak, or hold onto anything real,
because life was merely a dream
I was
trying to make a reality.
Everywhere I am I wonder about you.
Where you’re at what you’re doing.
Who you’re with.
You are busy this Saturday and now I wonder why.
Wonder how things came to be this some sort of madness.
Wonder why you told me you’d try to win me back
when you were winning this whole time.
I played your game perfectly and again you are the winner.
You never wanted a small white wedding.
You never wanted to be a husband, a father.
All you wanted was for your game to be played
for your melody to be sung
for your anthem to ring throughout the earth.
here again you are doing the same thing to another girl
and to all your friends. Singing the same melody.
That rings throughout the stadium.
I was your pawn that knew your game
and yet my feet were sinking in sand
that could hold tightly the love I had put down as my rock.
Which was limestone.
Again I realize what I’ve been doing to myself
where my paths have lead me
how hurt I have made myself.
How those nights spent crying, wondering
where you really there even when you were with me
we're all just a part of your game you had set up for me.

Why are the clouds so far away now my dear
when all stars in the sky seem to be crying with this bitterness
you have placed perfectly in a line for me to run on.
hot coals. Broken glass.
All things I have walked. Ran. Skipped through because you
were guiding me with your glorious lies.
So now im sitting here wondering if crimson is your perfect color
or if perfection is just a myth.
So here I am my dear.
Again.
Thinking of only you
and me
and the melody ringing throughout this room.
Love right now is not in the perfect state of perfection.