I lost a hairband that I liked to wear.
I liked how it felt on my head.
It had a gentle, wavy design
That combed my hair back—
Neither too hard
Nor too soft.

It clung to me with a silent
“I got you“ promise.
But it had a rough, broken edge on one side.
Worn that way,
It could pierce and chafe my head,
Even draw blood.

I was always careful;
Checking the right side up
Before wearing it.

It wasn’t perfect.
But I loved wearing
This imperfect thing.

I miss it,
Now that it is gone.
I liked having it around,
Like all the imperfect things
In my life.