Perfect Beat

A short love story.

            I wish to be perfect.

            It’s an empty wish that by no human means can be fulfilled, but sitting here, in his big coat that smells of cologne, I am perfect. The only sound as I read is his scribbled handwriting �" something I could get used to very quickly. There is no beat, no melody in my head; the soft breathing from his mouth and the sighs that escape are a song in itself. There are no doubts flirting with my thoughts. The sentences that string endlessly, taunting me and degrading me, are gone. There is a warm peace in the silence. There is no longer cold in my heart.

            In the morning, I kiss his forehead and sit by the tree outside and to the left of his room. I drag on a cigarette that burns my throat, but soothes my mind. There is a beat, a melody, and the silence hurts. I fill my head with music �" rich trumpets and warm voices. There is no home in my heart. I am empty.

            I return and gently urge him for breakfast, and together we make our way to the kitchen. And as he gathers food on his plate, potatoes and eggs and some other things, I fill our cups with lukewarm coffee and try to make it just the way I know he likes he. He appreciates this gesture and rewards me with a smile. I didn’t add enough sugar. I smile.

            Afternoon light beams on me as I walk back from my classes. Nicotine, my drug, keeps my head level. I find myself sitting on his bed. Earlier he had kissed me, like many times before, and it tasted just as sweet.

            I wish to be perfect. I wish to dance in the kitchen as I make us dinner. I can cook. I want to show him that. I am quiet while he works, tending to my own ventures and assignment. I am not clingy to him. When I return to my own room for the night, I take the pills that help me sleep. I don’t turn restlessly that way.

            He is perfect, and I am broken and sore. His quiet is a song, and there is no beat, no melody. There is no doubt until I am alone. I dream that I can keep him. I dream that I can not grow worn to him. I dream to be perfect. There is no beat, no melody.

Reviews

[Don Murphy]

I liked it. I feel the emotion, the Angst of the Narrator.
First - some grammatically errors: quotation marks open but don't close sentences, commas before the word 'and' or 'but' must be judiciously used, some other unnecessary commas (though some sources say many commas are arbitrary), can not is one word. These are not criticisms which are only stated to hurt or denigrate and rarely help. They are meant to illuminate and teach. We all learn from not just Teachers but each other.
Second - structure: Strong, visual sentences. Good overall structure. The sentence "I drag on a cigarette that burns my throat, but soothes my mind" is lovely, well-crafted and very Human (comma before the word 'but' not needed). The last four sentences are powerful and would have lost their meaning if made one long run-on sentence with commas. I like staccato thoughts and delivery and I use that structure often. Paragraphs stand well alone and follow logically.
Third - Content and Voice: Good subject matter. Who doesn't love a Love Story. It's clear and concise. No flab, bullsh**, or unneeded extras. It's Honest and that shows in the Voice. The Narrator is open, gentle, giving, and hopeful. It's an affirmative and inspiring stream-of-consciousness in a tight brief form.
Fourth (there is no last - a circle has no ending) I enjoyed it. I liked the writer's self-introspection and honesty. Left me wanted to read more of their work. Good Job.