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Ten Letters to My Ex: Dear Math Comprehension


One, everything was all right- perfect 10-

 times 9.

Measureable by a letter scale,

 A.

 

Two, I recall you but not what you said

one and one?

The scale is getting heavy and dark like

my heart. Minus.

 

Three, each relationship getting harder

to find—each with the same—

pattern—not  mine. My weight not holding on to

constant. Scale is Letter B.

 

Four, the nights are getting tougher too.

Longer, and hard to measure,

With and without a ruler. One quarter

Gone. Still not, measuring. Minus.

 

Five, do not tell me it is easy that’s

lying. So—false—cross out equal sign. Scratch—

paper is a waste of trees. Precious Carbon

and Oxygen, GASP! Heavy Letter C.

 

Six, I remember! Two! One and One, but

now there is an X? But Y? An axis, grid paper

more waste. Find it? How about no. You left,

and I have to do all the work? Of Course! Minus.

 

Seven, no more erasers, pencils gone.

Pen—is the only option. No more mistakes. You are

too old and too smart for those. Listen up kid.

It can only rise over run from here. Unlucky. D.

 

Eight, crying used to be continuous—

but now it is—discrete. One to eight—years—to learn tables time and

times again. Ones and twos and threes and skip,

all the way to multiplication. X is not a letter. Minus.

 

Nine, it is almost time for me now too.

Graduating is easy when the numbers make sense. They sometimes never

always do. Like, numbers are real only

in school where they are too afraid to be imaginary. Anger. E.

 

Ten, I need you, pi is not food, and I

am dying of starvation. Left to Right, My Dear Aunt Sally, but I do not have,

a relationship with her. I need you. I

hate that you are missing. I need you. I am no good at long division….Failure.

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Insane in the Gislaine

I act, I write, I try to sing and dance, and I think solely with my right brain. I have foreign parents so the need to be the best in every possible way is strong, but it's fun because I have different reasons why my hair looks and behaves the way it does. Sleep is for the weak. *week.

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