Steven Cuenca’s emotionally deep poem, ‘I Think I Was Perfect’!
i think i was perfect when i was diving deep,
like diving deeper than i’ve ever slept.
‘sleep’ rhymed better, but nonetheless
i think i was perfect two summers ago.
i think i was perfect when life and love
were broken by lack of sleep,
and a poor diet,
and the only love i found was in myself
and it was rich like dark chocolate
with almonds for the crunch.
i think i was perfect when everything was falling apart
and my body went into fight or flight.
every night was the morning,
every morning, a night,
i chose to fly instead of fight.
i think i was perfect when my eyes
succumbed to muscle memory
and they poured just like my drinks did.
nights of flashing, flashing lights,
and a spirit hardly lifted.
i think i was perfect when i was closest to christ,
my hands and feet…
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