Sometimes I believe
That love is mathematics
Something that can surely be
Weighed, measured, quantified
If you do that for me
You love me that much
And when I do this for you
It means I love you this much
But you disregard my definitions
Dismiss all my decimals and divisions
And turn to me with your hands held out
Palms open in submission and say, ‘it is what it is’
And then you add, no you command, ‘take me as I am’.
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