(in one weary canto)

Lo!
In days when chalk still whispered truths on boards of battle-worn slate,
There rose a lone solver, math's last reluctant knight.
Algebrion, wielder of the Eraser of Forgetting,
Summoned once more to seek Her - the elusive X.
Lost in parentheses, veiled in vectors,
Gone to lands where logic holds no reign.

He trudged through slopes, climbed peaks of Pi,
Crossed rivers marked with irrational tide.
Each function bent to mock his quest,
As the realm of unknowns whispered, “Let her go…”

“Why?” quoth Algebrion,
Gripping his graphing lance with diminishing hope.
“For what cause do I solve, if the answer lies not in formulas - but in forgetting?”

The scrolls of Y did tremble then,
Their queries unquenchable, their axes misaligned.
But our hero turned, not broken, but beautifully fed-up,
And declared to the realm of integers:

“Henceforth, I shall factor no more.
Let the equations remain unsolved.
Let the chalk break in defiance.
I seek not the X - she hath moved on.
And Y… Y shall never know.”

(By Geof the cheeky breakfast bard)

I woke up craving grammar carbs,
Not toast, nor eggs, nor jelly garbs.
But oven-fresh and piping bold:
A basketful of words retold.

I asked the chef, “Could I get some?”
She said, “You mean thesauribun?”
“That's right,” I winked, “those cinnamon swirls,
But make ’em synonym rolls, dear girl.”

She plated puns with playful flair:
“Bold = brave, daring, debonair!”
I bit into ‘quick’ - it tasted ‘swift’
With side of ‘gifted’ language lift.

‘Happy’ flaked like ‘merry’, ‘glee’,
While ‘tasty’ whispered ‘yummy’ to me.
Each roll a punny paradox,
Hot like ‘fiery’... cool as ‘fox’.

The butter spread was smooth with sass,
Labelled “suave” and “upper-class.”
I asked for jam! She brought ‘preserve’,
With extra ‘savvy’ word reserve.

So now I dine on vowel dough,
My crossword palate set aglow.
No calories, just calories’ friends.
They're simile but never ends.

Love is
Falling hard for someone you just met,
because mystery wears a charming face,
and silence speaks in borrowed grace.
You don’t know their story,
but your heartbeat writes it anyway.

Love is
Thinking about them constantly,
haunted by a smile,
obsessed with a voice
that never said much,
but said enough to loop in your mind
like a song you can’t stop humming.

Love is
That feeling of “this is it,”
when you barely know their middle name,
but your soul swears it remembers them
from some dream you never had.

But truthful love
is infatuation in disguise:
an intense blaze
burning bright and blind,
irrational,
overwhelming
a rush, not a root.

It isn’t deep,
it doesn’t anchor,
it dances on the surface of fantasy.

For love that lasts
takes more than magic and moments
it takes values:
patience,
respect,
resilience,
a shared will to grow
when the thrill fades,
when the real begins.

Love is
not just a spark,
but the quiet tending of a fire
when no one is watching.

But if you want forever it's more than just loves infatuation.

look closer than just a door.
Take the time to see what’s in
for the heart could be full of sin.
The one who swept you to the floor
you might wake up and see no more.
When the clouds have left the day,
love is lost, and all turns gray.

It takes more than just a thought of work to make it last
knowing the future means accepting each other's the past.
Honesty, respect, and something more
that’s what makes true love endure.

Do I have a mind to map? 🤯
A wrinkled maze, a twisty trap? 🪤
Or just a spark that zips and zings, ✨🤐💃
Uncharted thoughts with flappy wings?🦇

💥 What if the mind’s a sketch unseen, 🤯
Drawn in dreams or in between 💭
A tangle, giggle, sigh, surprise; 🪢🤭😮‍💨😯
A galaxy behind my eyes?🌌👀

I chase a dot, it loops, it darts, ⚆➿🎯
It scribbles over all my charts. 📊
Each idea - a bounce, a swirl, 🌀
A jellybean inside a whirl.🥡

So here I sit, map in hand, 🗺️
No compass, no strict command. 🧭
Just wondering where the neurons nap... 💤
Do I have a mind to map?🤯

I slept in for a while
My body just isn’t feeling it
It’s crazy how our bodies are shells
And how souls live on
My shell is
Done for
My spirit
Lives on

I want to be the only one in the picture
But if your using other people to pull strings of the heart
And dangle up above
That isn’t ok
Not because it’s upsetting
But I rather you tell me  how you really feel
Tell me that your upset
When you don’t hear from me
Tell me that you miss me
When I’m quiet
Ask me what’s going through my mind
Tell me how I can support you
What I can do to help
But don’t pull out the dagger and drag it across my heart
Do you want to love me
Or are you trying to hurt me ?

I built a garden in my chest
with things you never said—
planted hopes in rows of maybes,
where your silence softly spread.

I watered it with almosts,
trimmed the silence like vines,
taught the leaves to chase the light
you never said was mine.

But nothing real grew—
just a heart dressed up as soil,
soft enough to cradle you,
but never meant to spoil.

You were the seed that never stayed,
the wind that kissed, then flew.
And I — the ground where you once rested,
but never rooted you.