Your words used to be geometric

carefully angled polygons of meaning measured to fit certain occasions

like a shape sorter toy

and i would hold each word examine it and wonder if it was meant for eye, tongue, heart, brain

or some other part

of which you would never speak

and the words always fit eye and brain

and too rarely tongue

spaces in my body became empty needing to be filled by more than plastic geometry

even though i was attracted to the colors

i didn't want to sort and make this be such a cerebral task

of putting pieces of you into me

so i just waited letting you put the pieces in

I kept myself open to more than just geometry and more than just us

until the threat of tsunamis of poetry gushing through my body

shifted your polygons into parabolas stretching through me

no longer structured

now I am only open to the angles of your geometry bending around my body

the circumference of your voice engulfing me with its depth

the area of your eyes sinking me in its volume

the perimeter of your shadow as it blends into mine

the surface area of your back for my nails to dig into

the square root of your sighs

the slope of your thrust

the infinity of your smile...