One was Tamika–and then came me.
Or so I thought. But I confused her smile
And laughter at my corny jokes as something
Beyond friendship, more than flirtatious.
It was love at first giggle, lust at the sound
Of her snorting chortle. A comforting arm rub
Was foreplay, a weak jab to the shoulder counted
As intercourse. I was one and she was one, too,
And if my math was correct, our sum would be two.
But she wasn’t looking for addition
Or to be multiplied. Division was her goal;
Reducing life to the lowest common denominator
By subtracting unnecessary drama and hurt feelings.
We blended and intersected at different angles,
A geometry of the mind. We formed polygons
And curved our bodies into spheres.
My circle was inside hers, completely–
A perverse Venn diagram.
She swallowed what I thought was myself
Into her being. Tamika remained, and I
Became an after thought, an imaginary
Friend made manifest. A sentient puppet
Without strings. I knew I danced at her
Command, jigged and stroked at her bidding;
I knew I had a personality before meeting her,
But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember it.
So I continue to spin and swirl for her, soulless.
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen