How it Feels to Love an Economist

Affection was her invisible hand gliding down your back to map the gradient of your spine. Love was letting that unseen force replace intimacy. She loved precisely where demand met supply. Razor-thin efficiency. She reciprocated coffee for coffee, love for love. No shortage but no extra either. She gave unconditionally but only when all else had remained constant. (We built everything on assumptions.) But what was constant was never enough and She'd explain it away with your infinite wants and her finite self. She made all the choices, administered love like an economist and made you her next best opportunity Forgone.

Request permission to use this poem

Explore

Hello PoetryVoting

Write