Of Perfection

January 9, 2011
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Hand stretched to its extent
Each delicate finger straining
Toward the golden light
That dances just out of reach
Haunting the back of your mind
Taunting gaily

Tearing yourself apart with pristine nails
Tugging your flowing hair with beautiful arms
Scarring yourself with lovely words
Your sobbing glorious eyes
Tell me so

There you are
Following the hallowed call
Stumbling imperfectly in the dust
Of the road your sweat a cloak
For your tender back
Knowing that you are just inches away

But if you are inches, girl
Then I am a mile.

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