I like to think that if we were
numbers,
we’d
be co primes
the
only common factor we’ll have
will
be the one that we’re forced to have
there’d
be no symmetry, only chaos,
but you’d
be an even function,
unapologetically
you
and I’d
be in all the wrong quadrants
we wouldn’t
be parallel lines darling,
nor
will we ever run in the same direction
or on
the same path,
we’d
diverge, yet never intersect
we’d
manage to be skew lines,
in
different planes,
and
different graphs,
on the
same graph sheet.
we’d
do wonders, my darling,
but
they’d never know
because
we’d have all the irrational roots
and imaginary
solutions
they’d
fail to mark our origin
on the
number line
or map
our equations
for an
intersecting point
they’d
say, we’re too much of poetry
to be
real
so we’ll
take the escape root
and be
complex
we’d
be different edges
of the
same cube
and all
the parallel parts
of a
rectangle
we’d
be complimentary angles
but we’d
supplement each other
we’d
never lie on the same tangent
but we’d
address the same circle
Our
squares will add up
to
form your cube
yet that
would never be enough
to
make it through
the
silence of our division is enough
to
imply that there’s little hope
but we’d
add up to tend to infinity
and
that’d be just enough for us two.
