xx (unfinished love poem)

i caught myself the other day with words that were a little more beautiful after you came along. i caught myself in a net of them, in fact. words like exile, alienation, panic, love, clavicle, and easy. i caught myself with words like exile, alienation, panic, love, clavicle and easy in blue pen on my skin like runes. in doing that i was trying to capture you, box you in until I realized that i can’t. i am not you-romantic. i am a teenager, and i am feeble and lost, and i thought i believed strongly in things before i met you and I wanted to change myself. i started believing different and i picked up your speech patterns because you dropped them in front of me like ammunition, i used them to renovate the way i thought. and it was no secret to anyone that all i thought about was you and how every time you disagreed with me i saw it as a misalignment, as if i could do it again with different values this time, the fact that i dissented from you at all was an insult and it clawed at my skin, you clawed at my skin and I bet you didn’t even know it and i’m standing here as an anomaly to you and to myself.

you will go down in history, and i’ve said that a billion times because I have a fear, that is to say infatuation with infinity. when i’m in love with you i feel like i am in love forever, and when i’m not?

 well, when i’m not in love with you sometimes i think about other things (but only sometimes). things like space, and matter, physics and how you are the one thing i can’t explain with logic and math like everything else – you were the one who taught me to write these kinds of equations, but you were smart enough to exclude yourself from them.

 so i love you. i mean, i guess. i have to write it down sometimes, how much i love you, how your fingers float, how sometimes i analyze your letter shapes when you write stuff down, how sometimes i can’t get enough of that thing your mouth does when you talk, the way that we talk about love and relationships and it isn’t painful at all. it’s blissful. it was always blissful, but now it’s blissful for a different reason. i’ve put my entire life in terms of you. i am isolated on the left side, the only variable that’s a constant here, while you do your dirty work on the other side of the equal sign, making a curve out of me and my infidelity to just a single idea. what i need is the slope of this tangent line you gave me, and while i may not have a limit at c, i have a limit. (i found it in blue ink on my arm like bible verses.)

 like i said, i am an anomaly: the angular distance between me and my last perihelion, the closest i’ve ever been to any light that calls itself a part of you, it exists and it is measurable. i caught myself the other day with bandages on my abdomen where your words mangled me like a pack of wolves, made their way up my spine to my head and had their fun frolicking in my amygdala. i caught myself wanting to keep those wolves in a glass jar just in case i got lonely. i caught myself, but not fast enough. i made myself an exile. an alien. i panic. i love you. i love that your clavicle is the pinnacle of beauty to me sometimes. i love you, it’s so easy. i love you. love me back.


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