It was never meant to be perfect,
The idea of a fairy tale romance seemed to be utopian,
It was a mark of monotony.
Defined by their flaws,
They fostered a love marked by frivolous arguments,
Similarities were plenty, so were differences,
All connected by a longing and a never ending yearn.
In her mind, all his time was hers.
In his, restrictions ceased to exist.
Not-so-sweet with a twist was his idea of romance,
Spice with a tinge of sugar was hers.
His calmness drove away her melancholy.
His smile lit up her eyes,
His words paved a way, straight to her heart.
A glimpse of him was enough to put her to ease,
She travelled the world in his arms,
His hug was enough to iron out all the worries.
Their love is in the wait,
It is in the anticipation for the next glimpse.
It is in her anger,
It is in his attempts.
Their love is in everything imperfect,
It is what makes them impeccable for each other, of course with a twist.