Knowing how I waste my time,
you asked me for a love poem.
I should have told you then
that though I wield a poet's pen,
deep within me
beats the heart of a mathematician.
Love is a numbers game,
a process of constant addition and subtraction
to produce a Variable A (my bullshit)
that is roughly equal to Variable B (your bullshit)
to yield the ever elusive Variable C (long term peaceful cohabitation with occasional peel the paint off the walls sex).
Or, so it seems to me.
But, that won't sell movie tickets.
So, I pick up my pen
and try again.
Years from now, my love,
when infatuation is just a memory,
I will still laugh when you tell jokes I've already heard,
remember that you don't like tomato soup,
and sleep in sweatshirts just because you like it cold.
I'll never let on that I know that you're getting a bald spot.
I will never consider that we won't always be us.
And, I will never, ever let you face this unkind world alone.
For Open Link Night at dVerse.