Math

A poem.

I often think of our last day together.
How you wanted to have sex
one last time.
I got out of the shower,
naked and powerful.
You couldn’t resist my body.
I didn’t want to,
but I did.

While you were on top
of me,
I realized what you wanted.
My body.
Not me.
Something in me broke.
Something in me has
stayed broken.

I stopped you but
not before it was too late.
I carry that day with me.
It’s an ugly summation
of our time together.
But not an equalization.
I wish it were imaginary.
I’m still searching for “x.”
To solve the mess you left
inside my brain.

Photo by Roman Mager on Unsplash

Recycling

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