Manya Saxena Poet Free verse

Utopia

In a perfect world, you are making me coffee,
just the way I like, point two five cream, and point
five sugar. It is a perfect world because I can hear
you sing and we know how you hate it. It is 7 in the
morning and we’ve woken up early because that’s
what we do in a perfect world. Love happens in
little moments in a perfect world. We collect these
mementos and god knows we have a jar filled with
these. You look at me every day and don’t wish for
anyone else and since it is our perfect world, I wish
the same. We move out of this place, we go to work,
we come back home and it is perfect. It is perfect.
Is it perfect?

I swear I saw you gag on the soufflé I made, I hear 
your audible annoyance when I asked you about 
your favorite anime. There are moments in our 
conversations that are lopsided, flaky, downright 
awkward. There are moments in our jar that are 
okay, just okay. We reach out for each other’s 
hands but somehow they get twisted instead
of getting entangled. It is like being handcuffed 
with a tree and the tree never grows. But it’s a 
perfect world so we go to sleep and wake up with 
you making me coffee and I wishing for no one but 
you and it’s perfect.

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