Take me as a definition: a surface-level heart that drowns in
deep thought, quietly pondering love, quietly grieving loss.
Loss not just for someone; a loss for most words. Because
when you’ve been dealing with a lot, you stop explaining
and start enduring.

Take me, for example: yesterday I had a conversation with
myself, but it sounded like I was addressing the ugly stuff,
the versions of me I don’t post about. Getting a little older,
I now feel the subtraction of duration settling in my bones.
It’s not pain exactly. It’s more like time knocking without
waiting for permission.

Multiply that by multiple misfires, all the times I believed,
in my head, that I’d finally found the one. Now, I’m left
divided. Not between people, but between the stories I told
myself; the truths I keep avoiding. Insanely rich with poor
results — "wait, that doesn’t add up." As that’s the math of
memory: it never balances the way love promises it will.

Still I need a leg up, not just to raise the hopes of this tired
heart, but just to step out of my despairs. Because lately,
I’ve been third-wheeling the very idea of love; a tagalong
to a party I used to host. And when it comes to falling for
someone with a previously broken heart, you learn quick:
it doesn’t come with a spare.

I’ve realized love either helps you make strong memories
or leaves you with the memory of a sus stain. You can’t
always tell which until it’s already on you, and by then
you’re already trying to scrub out that which you hoped
to sustain.

The Arithmetic of Almost-Love.

When is “enough” enough?
When doing too much ≠ enough. It falls somewhere
between “you care too much” + “you’re not doing a thing.”
If I say it with the sharpness of heart, it still lands blunt.
And I don’t want to come off like I’m doing a stunt
or overstaying my welcome.

But what is enough when doing nothing
starts to look like too much? —You ever feel like
the *** on the street —living on love that isn’t
concrete? Built on hope, but the cons increase.
They say it’s home, but the rent’s called unease.

Is there a way to multitask love —
a multiple of itself in a multiplied path?
A multitude of love in a multiverse math…
but it never really adds. Because it subtracts —
you. The more you give out ÷ the less you get back.
Yeah, it’s a trap. When you’re solving for X
but losing Y. Then you carry the one, but forget the why.
—
So I ask again: When is enough enough?
When devotion is debt, and love's just a sum
of what’s left. It’s never enough. But it’s always
too much. A pointless cost we still call Love.