After so many nights pressed against the solid square of you, I felt geometry everywhere. The clock, that devil circle, cut out piece by piece, the triangles laid out in the way of us. Under my feet, red brick swayed back and forth in broken rectangles, bringing me closer with each step. And there were spheres - the suns you sent me from up north, the bulbs of unripe blossoms. Each day is a line. The length of them varies but the thickness does not. Each morning I wake up to trudge through the same murk. Take me to the ribbon and I will cut it and break through, landing on the flat of my back on your hardwood floor and never moving from that divine plane again.