Meran (meran) wrote,

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My stomach hurts.
Niki and I just consumed copious amounts of ice cream, which is the most likely cause for my current state of abdominal discomfort.
I want to get into Art 190. Now.
I cannot concentrate.
I took my practice math final today, and by taking I mean wrote bits of poetry across the blank spots that were supposed to be filled with related rates problems.

I miss you like I miss trigonometry
in all its dependable order and intricate simplicity
I find comfort and peace
I need you like I need calculus
somehow you help me
define and explore the mysteries of myself, the universe.
I understand you like I understand derivatives
my equations express nothing as they sprawl across wasted time, pages.
I stop you like I stop mathematics
every so often
promising to return
when I am passionate again.

Write me a letter.
infuse lifeless pages with your thoughts
your scent lingering in the fibers,
caressing the classic blue lines and mundane margins.
Leave it under my pillow,
So I can fold a piece of you,
save it in the dark recesses of my drawer.
No doubt,
your words will outlast the fleeting definition of us.
Someday, I will rediscover you,
and sit silently savoring each syllable like a sumptuous dark

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