There once was a mathematician, who
hypothesised long ago that I would
learn to love him. His words were all logic,
plans and placements, everything set in
stone for me to keep. He said that, one day,
my heart wouldn't break at the prospect
of love and that I would get over my
pure fear - of me, of him, of... us. He
promised that, one day, his love would be
returned to him when I realised exactly
what he was to me.
He was right.
But I was too late.
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
There once was a mathematician, who
hypothesised long ago that I would
learn to love him. His words were all logic,
plans and placements, everything set in
stone for me to keep. He said that, one day,
my heart wouldn't break at the prospect
of love and that I would get over my
pure fear - of me, of him, of... us. He
promised that, one day, his love would be
returned to him when I realised exactly
what he was to me.
He was right.
But I was too late.
