It’s not something you can turn off.
A part of me is always detached.
Abstracting, looking at numbers and patterns.
When we should be closest, a part of me is still alone.
Counting the touches of her fingertips.
(touch,touch,touch,touch,touch)
…. wait… is that…
that’s the Fibonacci sequence!!

whatever i did to deserve you,
it couldn’t have been enough….