Perfectionist Rehab

I believe in three loves each,

All impart lessons to teach.

The first is the ideal, the true romantic,

When it ends you fall into panic.

Why did they leave? What’s wrong with me?

Your “perfect” person’s faults blind to thee.

Th second love is the almost,

Puzzle-piece-fit – engrossed.

Trying to force the join,

Not noticing the other side of the coin.

To every story there are three sides,

Yours, theirs, between which hides,

The truth of the situation, though scary maybe,

That neither viewpoint is reality.

There’s no good reason why the second love ends,

Maybe you concoct a reason with friends.

But the truth is this – it was toxic,

Both parties contribute – hypnotic.

The love stories we’d love to hold,

Deep in our souls, truth be told,

The almost is where most people end,

Miserable together or apart they bend.

Certain they were meant to be alone,

This is when the third comes home.

The third love is why you’ve waded,

Through the muck, having dated,

To your person – elated.