misshapen mishaps

i'm tired of using the words
"linger" and "hover" for this
because it is not oxygen
and you are not breathing
life in this relationship
and all it does is sail
away from my grasp

i'm tired of seeing the shapes
"rectangle" and "rhombus" in your eyes
they are not real, they are imagined
and you are not dreaming
tonight, or any night, really
and all the edges poke your retinas
and i go blind from staring

i'm tired of the triangular
diameter of "square"
and "compasses"
closing your palms
and i don't believe in space,
outer edges or emptiness alike,
the universe centered
around the boiling sun
meant to swallow
like orange tea;
i'd rather drown
in the edges and angles
of things never meant to rhyme
than white lies that do

i'm tired (so very tired)
of the geometric sequencing
you use to solve yourself --
if you condense a question into
a box the size of your heart
and there is only one answer choice,
i wonder how long it will take before
you decide you can't really fit, before
you decide it's multiple-choice and
that lilac blooming on that hill
that smells like that perfume your
mother used to wear is one of the solutions

perusing the cabinet drawer
in search of logistic inconsistencies
in dealing with a wile
that has lost its charm
in the long while of decision-making
and thinking, thinking, thinking
you're always thinking
but never feeling
and when you speak it's
to answer anything but the thing
i need for you to look at
with something other than your eyes --
don't you get tired
of trying to solve invisible problems
just as i get tired
of waiting for you to answer some inevitable
failure written in red pen?

wait.
don't answer.
put your eyes away and put your heart on.
expand and contract for a minute.
breathe out and out and out.
now breathe in,
and let me tell you one thing:
i have a memory of you before
tai shang, before holland,
before even cyrkam.
we danced and ate ruggelah
and you told me my hair was too long.
i know you don't remember.
i know all you can see are hard lines
i know all you can see are hard edges
i know all you can see are hard corners
but you used to round everything out.
you used to feel me when i touched you.
we used to laugh, and i cried once.

that's why i'm tired. are you?