Plotted

On the walls are shapes,
We tilt our heads to figure the math,
I see a plane reflecting the sun’s rays-
I catch them.
You see an axis splitting a light beam-
you let it scatter.

I see adhesives; you see scissors,
My shapes are a flowing gale,
I am windswept and you have strung along,
But your angles are sharp,
and we snap.

So, when you rest your razor burns-
in the heel of my palms,
I can’t help but notice your jaw’s edge.
I’m bleeding before you cut my skin,
Glue hanging off my eyelash- nothing to stick.

I see the yolk and you see eggshells,
We nourish each other, a perfect pair,
But when you duck your head below my hairline,
I see your eyes break- never once hatching.

Our quarters were always different it seems,
I’m glassy eyes and you are matte black,
Maybe we graphed it wrong one time,
We part this June after 360 days.

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