Alethea,
you are the logarithm to my exponent.
For
as long as I can remember
I
have wanted you to be my tangent,
but
as I chase you, always moving
closer,
though never crossing understanding,
the
only thing I have truly come to learn
is
that you are an asymptote.
This
desire for your Cartesian curves
finds
its way into my every thought.
In
my pursuit I have found love letters
written
by countless radical minds greater than my own.
Standing on each other’s shoulders,
they
exponentiate themselves to you.
Yet
even they were unable to solve for your affection.
How
can i even imagine doing better?
Still,
the purity of your perfection
is
too alluring a plot to abandon.
I
want to know you.
But
even if that can never be I will continue
to
move toward you fraction by fraction,
always
the inverse.
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