We lay here, unsolved.
As if we are nothing more than an equation.
We are only odd numerals of one, one and two.
Memorizing every spot, freckle as we
Count each others pulses.
Our lips line up as if they were nothing but tessellations on paper.
We embrace the soft and thinly overlapping-yet equivalents.
Gently touching the area below a curve
Trying to find the solution,
Where there are no absolute values,
Only conditional inequalities of one another.
We attempt to double the time, to avoid the end behavior.
Your body falls like the arc of a circle before me.
Dimensionless and yet dishonorably secure.
As I draw on your imaginary parts,
Like the leg of an Isosceles.
From inside, you distribute a positive number.
I regress slowly, as my roses curve around your prism.
Identities reciprocal, identities supplementary.