Perfection

I have constructed and destroyed these sentences
A thousand times in my head
I wanted this poem to be perfect, free from flaws
Perfection takes time, I always say
But you and I are far from perfect
We have chased perfection in endless rendition
It is a dream to far to reach
Yet close enough to hold with the hands of our minds

You see, perfection is when you smile
That smile that lights up your eyes like ZESA has just come back
Perfection is that laughter you give out
When I suddenly carry you in the middle of the street
It is that warm embrace
That makes me feel like a friend of the gods
But you and I are far from perfect

I drift further from it every time
I paint my life with illusions society has taught us to accept
When I walk in that gait I was told is for gentlemen
When I wear tattoos to paint my skin better than it was
When I compete with cocks for an unnatural hairdo
And I shield my eyes from yours with glasses so dark
The devil is even scared to wear them

You drift from perfection too
When you paint your lips so red
Sometimes I think you just kissed a bloody wound
And when you paint your eyes so purple
And so pink
Sometimes it is hard to tell you apart from dolls
You and I are far from perfect

Perfection is when I glimpse at your soul
And know that it needs no make up
For it to be defined as beautiful
It is when I hold your hand
And hear you laugh like a small kid
And remind me that perfection resides in moments
We always take for granted
Those which we are too distracted to notice
Because we are searching for a  perfection
That has been defined by our imperfect selves
But we are far from perfect, you and i

Perfection is when your soul talks to mine
And tells it that it is not the pot belly that matters
Nor the moustache, nor the money
But the beauty of creation
That the spark in my eyes spark yours too
For if the eyes are the windows to the soul
How can yours see mine when I shield my eyes
With those shades so dark
They are black holes to everything that is ever beautiful, perfect
But we are far from perfect, you and I

Still we chase perfection day in and day out
Like this ever present need that we can not meet
Our idea of perfect keeps on mutating
From yellow bones to wide hips
To sagging pants and heavy chains
Tight fitting jeans and big boots
We are strangers of our former selves
Chasing a dream that we can never attain
Buying the idea of perfection merchants sell to us
We can never quite keep up but still we do not tire
Because from our imperfect point of view
The perfection of who we were made to be
Is a foolish notion never to be followed
Still, we are not perfect, you and I

Pardon Gwara, Zimbabwe