logic spoke thru my cold soul..
by conscience i was told
it made zero sense

please..my damaged amygdala
((which couldnt calculate
romance in lower math
even if it had
an abacus w/heart shaped beads))
concluded it didnt

i was the equivalent of self reliance
an innocence defiant
not so tender 9
the 1st time i witnessed
what i thought
was my mirrored reflection
a potentially crazy
well rounded dot
of perfection
oddball perception sum might say
w/an easy enough name
tho i called her ‘daisy blossom flower baby’ anyway
i watched her dribble
symbols of love over a squiggle
& by age 36 i found myself doin the same

and my
straight line
approach
ever willing victim
to the total sum
of tunnel vision
could sense
somehow the
attractive
magnitude
of his
messy
magnetism

i followed
thermoplastic
yellow road paint
as the wheel
of her heart
rolled on

left wedge
lever
and
inclined plane
in her path

simple
mechanisms
seeming only
to launch
her forward
towards
final decision

deciding
it better
that i fashion
myself
a prism
and imprison her
heart
in cages
of brilliant
spectral light

that if
someway
somewhere
she should
escape tonight
she would
know
the color
of my love
now shaded
blue

inloveofmathematics&writingart!

the aolinearthinkspeak