Category errors make for charmed bedfellows.
How can one plus one equal everything?
Contradictions fill nothing but an empty set
Of words, of sleeping beside a stranger
Known since before eyes were more than eyes,
Of secret victories shared and failures traded with you and
Who you said you were,
Of endings that weren't.
Some pain is asymptotic, never quite reaching zero.
Some is only conjectured, never proven,
Dipping and diving just beyond the critical line.
My pain is elliptic, doubly periodic;
It defies elementary deconstruction.
It makes circles into squares and
Fills the complex plane with distortions of you.
It lingers in essential singularities,
It bleeds infinite residues,
It drags the frame.