A Less-Than-Perfect Love

I woke up this morning
Remembering the nights before
And the mornings after.
Sleep was still upon you.
I began to reflect,
Entranced by the rhythm of your breathing.
I remembered the taste of your lips,
Warm, moist, sometimes bitter.
I remembered your touch,
Felt by my entire being.
I remembered your scent
Exotic like an Amazon flower.
I remembered things I purposely forgot,
The selfishness in both of us,
The insensitivity,
The careless words spoken to wound,
The disappointments caused by foolish expectations.
As I remembered a tear came to my eye.
Was I sad?
Did it hurt to reflect upon our past, present, and future?
I smiled recalling silly serious moments,
Carefree abandon, and echoes of laughter.
Then my brow was knitted,
Pondering the fear of trusting you, loving you,
Knowing the potential hurt.
Yet, when we’ve made love,
It has been possible to forgive all, forget all.
Then this matter of equality.
Did I take as much as I gave?
Were your needs greater than mine?
As I reflected upon our less-than-perfect love,
It was clear that more than desired,
I loved you.
Maybe sometimes out of fear of being alone.
Maybe because you understood me.
I knew you would hurt me again
And I thoughtlessly would do the same.
I was aware of all these things
Listening to the rhythm of your breathing,
Conscious of how syncopated our lives had become.
I rejoined you in sleep
Confident we would awaken
Still in love.