Imperfection

I hate
the tantric riddles
the edge of disappointment
the width of double beds

I hate
vulnerable whispers
sad questioning eyes
frustrated tears

I hate
the sound of two pennies gossiping
of more social pockets
two cents I can't afford to ignore
the difference between
todays bread and tomorrows

I hate
the taunting silence of night
resurrecting sacrifices,
illuminating failures

I hate
the patience I that squandered
waiting for you to see
I was worthy of love too

I hate my body
marred with scars I endured
bearing our children,
the silver streaks earned
over domestic conerns

I hate, my hair,
not blonde enough,
my legs, not long enough,
my breasts, not small enough
my eyes, not blue enough

I hate these anxious pangs,
the indigestion
the smudge of worry 'neath my eyes
the rootless feeling
that comes with drifting

I hate
your quicksilver moods
your pessimism
your impatient wandering
your critisism of silly innocence
the way you give up before you fight

is this how you felt
while lying beside imperfection
dying to be free of the responsibility
of a dead romance?