Baby, the fact is

your E squares my mc.




So, uh, I guess

I’m still working

on a hypothesis

about how symbols become

syllables become life

sentences in love, so

hear me out, darling, because, oh—


your energy and

our light and

my mass and

us twirling under a new mathematics’ power (the

gravities of the greatest moons in every galaxy pale) and

a faith in the theory that truth

lies in equal signs

and little more

or less.

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