I often hear people in love,
as they speak about the ones they love.
They say odd things,
spouting out heavy words,
as though they are weightless.

The one I love?
Well, she’s none of those things.
She’s not perfect.
She’s not flawless.
She’s human.

See, she has thing about her,
an appeal that I can’t seem to understand.
She can be stubborn at times,
over the oddest of things
(but don’t tell her I said that,
otherwise she’ll eat me alive).
But, I love that about her.
Her stubbornness makes her a fighter…
in the good way, as her nature makes me want to be better.
When she is stubborn,
she makes me giggle – yes, me giggle…
but sometimes, she makes me furious.
Both because she becomes so passionate,
that nothing can stop her until she gets what she wants.
But, I intend on being her greatest feat of stubbornness,
as I, too, am made up of imperfections.
And it is together, that we make perfect.

At times, she’s indecisive.
Oh, how indecisive.
It flusters me often,
as I am very quick to decide,
and once I’m convinced,
it takes a lot to push me aside.

I guess that makes me stubborn too.

Her, she is indecisive,
and stubborn – a deadly combination.
But, I love that about her.
I like to watch as she tries to figure things out.
I sometimes imagine her scrunching up her nose,
thinking and coming up with ideas,
and sometimes coming up with nothing
more than a deeper confusion.

You see, I’m not perfect either.
Of that, I can assure you.
I try to be the best I can,
but in the end, I remain human.
But, I have an objective.
A goal, a vision.
To be the one that can relieve her.
The one who untangles her mind
when over thinking leaves her in knots.
The one who, when I am the cause of distraught,
can embrace the opportunity to make her feel better.

And why do I hold this objective?
Because she does these same things for me,
whether she knows it or not,
even when sometimes, she causes these knots.

But, she’s worth it.

Now, I won’t claim the expected,
that our imperfections make us perfect for each other.
The fact is, we’re both a mess.
We’re imperfect.
We’re flawed.
We’re human.
There may even be someone out there,
for each of us,
that might be “perfect”
on paper,
or in the thoughts of others.

But, what makes us,
is that despite all of that,
we love one another.

Copyright © Nadir Keval