my greatest gratitude is we do not get to go back in time
it would be unlucky to have loved you in perfection
with the injustice of hindsight

the privilege to know the voice of your anger
the quiver of my sadness
is the truth of love

it is an overlooked miracle
the privilege of progress
that we are sure-footed when contention rumbles us
how i would hate to spoil us with perfection

when i touch the miracle of you
my eyes wet
my being disheveled
you wipe me dry
i am in the reality of love