Formulas? What formulas?
My angles are calculated
by kisses.

How many sides?
I have enough
to keep me entertained for a thousand years.
As for area, I don't have much

Because my insides drove off
into sunny blizzards
a long time ago.

I am missing a base
There's a gaping whole somewhere

Its perfection, in comparison to me,
releases the gilded blood
which melts my myriad of eyes,
those limestone rocks
I lean on whenever my shape is uneven,
the angles getting smaller

At a different pace each.
Lips & hugs are not always enough
to keep them standing;
When they
collapse, you are hardly forgiven.