Nearly
I'm not quite there yet—
not quite at the point
where I can overlook all of her flaws
out of hand.
I'm nearly in love.
I'm nearly able to live on her
and her alone,
but I need a little longer
until I'll let myself
roll the universe into a ball.
I can nearly hear jokes
made at her expense,
without cracking a smile.
Sometimes,
I can pretend she's perfect,
but then she brings up our past,
and I can't pretend she's perfect any more.
I just need one straw
to add to the collection.
It could be the short one,
but it wouldn't matter,
because it would be my last.
I'm waiting for an independent case study,
to prove it's true,
but no-one presents them like they used to.