Perfect Wishes

The words
sat heavy in the air,
spinning themselves
into intricate webs.

Webs designed
to trap me.

Designed
to tangle me up
irreversibly
with even the smallest
of my imperfections.

I've never been perfect,
and I know now
that the lack of perfection
I hold
will be the one thing
to get me tangled
beyond the possibilities
of return.

The webs of
endless words
are stuck
so tightly together
that I can barely
make out my
argument hidden within.

So tightly
that I can barely
see anything
but the endless
valleys of arguments
designed to stop me
from turning anywhere
but back.

And then the webs part
to reveal a path
into the mist.

Another option,
at last.

I place my hand
in hers.

I can finally
breathe again.