This is the direct result of being tagged in yet another poetry note on Facebook. I didn’t read his poem, but I did finish my own (the first stanza has existed for the better part of a week now). So, I guess that’s something.


Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love. ~Albert Einstein

I want to run my hands over those concave and obtuse angles
Trace the line of your thigh with a finger
Work the math of your body with my palms
Whisper the algorithms of passion into that tender conch curve

A vow made in darkness lasts one hundred years
But time melts through my fingers as you speed away from me
So I paint a portrait of you in the leavings of time

I could capture the universe in acrylic
But nothing seems to hold the memory of your smile

I have become a study in aging adolescent apathy
Surrounding myself with people, lining them up in fields and fans
And pushing them away with my electromagnetic bipolarism
Before the bonds between us become too strong

When your voice (so persistent in my mind)
Quiets for the night
I sleep
Dreaming of your mouth
Your hands
The soft weave of your t-shirt
And when I wake up
I find that I am hugging a pillow to my chest
Trying to shove it under my skin
And I let it go
My fingers aching from the strain

The roads of communication run both ways, and I’m tired of traveling
But the faster I drive away from you, the closer I seem to get
Your gravity pulling me down to the singularity of desire
So I throw my clocks out the window, into the night
And I bend my rusty voice around the fabric of a new vow

So that, one day, I might feast my eyes on your gentle algebra
Run my mouth along the sine curve of your lips
Solve the problems on your shoulders with my teeth
And prove the limits of my adoration with a sigh

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