Imperfect Love

You were the marvelous art of Picasso

And I just a scribbling of an amateur artist

You were the solasta

And I the flickering candle

So I always wondered why you loved me

But then the crescent moon fascinated you more than the full

And a shooting star than a fixed one

And when you forsook me

You were still the complete portrait

And I was dangling like an incomplete silhouette.

          You were always the perfect one who aced at everything you did and I on the other hand would mess up even the simplest of the tasks. It always made me wonder why you loved me. But, One day when we were sitting on the terrace under the full moon's gleam. You told me that you loved a crescent moon more than a full moon and the other day when a cup accidentally slipped from my hand and the handle broke you didn't throw it away and said it's an imperfect beauty.

That's when I realized your love for imperfections and also why you loved me. I was happy that you loved me. But then I forgot your love for incompleteness and one day you just left and our story remained incomplete just the way you loved it and I was left there all alone.