We kept on arguing over
A perfect flavour.
A perfect flower and fragrance.
A perfect house and
Homeliness.
A flawless you for a
Flawless personality of mine.
Our un-met realities against
The imagined fantasies,
That fizzled out some humble
Possibilities-
Between what you said
And what I heard.
What you expect and
What I could offer-
Truth is a bird that grew
Wings to fly away.
And we sulk here wingless.
Complaining about
A mirage, that could have
Been our big flight.
We can hug and cuddle.
But no. We wait for a
Perfect moment to come
For our initiation.
Small steps for a big leap-
But we're obsessed about
Cleaning our feet first,
Than walking with disregard
For the dirt.
Idealism killed us, our love
Is incomplete that's how.