The Pearl

Precious pearl - what value,
what cost, what intricacy
in the eyes of many who
see you as thus. Do you
savour attention, precious pearl?
Bid me look at thee, bid
them write poems about thee?
Which of these do you not claim to be:
the poignant constellation,
perfumed carnation,
Japan's cherry blossoms,
Virgin Mary's bosom,
the pastures in spring,
sunsets in coasts,
Coney Island, New York;
what we fancy the most,
but you remain the round pearl,
but elegant, adamant, what
had irked me the most
is finding out you are counterfeit.

Math & Affection

In love there is no math, but there comes a sum of consequence after the addends of action. In love there is no math, but for one to truly comprehend the other there must be a division of perspective. In love there is no math, but a fraction of feeling multiplies itself into wholes under the roof of affection. In love there is no math, but to prove that both sides contribute to each other in congruence requires such an essence. In love there is no math, but an influx of emotion demands heart to be compressed into the notation of patience and proper behaviour. In love there is no math, but the value of companionship when in the possession of another is bound to become converted, become changed. In love there is no math, but amid the enormity of devotion it can be weighed. In love there is no math, and the trajectory of attraction knows no definite angle, but ends at one definite point nonetheless.

There can never be math in love, but like math we all end up loving despite our differences in method; we all end up loved despite whatever trial or error.