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 were punctured.
i hung up there, but raised my head.
my fate i had accepted.

i’d die alone
and i’d sit
with thoughts invading like
black mold.
i wouldn’t die sad,
i’ve moved beyond that,
i’d die with a sense of comfort.

i’ve been comfortable
through all the fucked shit.
i’ve been comfortable
and full of love.
i’ve been comfortable making bubbles
when i should have held my lungs.

i think i was perfect when i was diving deep,
the deepest i’ve ever dove.
i think i was perfect
when i was scared of drowning.
—
“i think i was perfect
©Steven Cuenca