don't look at me that way

Drawn curtains and hoping to hear of someone else's heartbreak and using the same letters to spell different words over and over again until the letters dance up and form something incredible and I think about all the things you say every time you say anything at all and I think about how I don't know how to do it again. I don't know how to escape you sometimes but I remember that I have been here before, similarly, just not as much. When Sam was tutoring me on triangles, he said the way I think about things in crooked, and thinking about triangles, I'm not sure I trust myself enough to let go of straight lines. I don't know how to draw and being this terrible at math, I know I will always be alone. I think about how long it took for my heart to break yours and how uncomfortable it can be when ventricles become triangular or something different from what I expected at all. There's this thing I do when I'm crying in front of somebody I love where I can't look them or myself in the eyes and I wonder who I get that from. I wonder who taught you how to love and how to unlove and if you only unlove and never quite fall out of it, how old does that make our devastation? Is this math? is this a problem? is this something adult or something more like holding hands on swing sets?

When the fog clears, I promise I will have the answer.