When asymptotes fall in love, how tragic. Two lines coming closer and closer and never meeting. He leaps out of the graph and finds the angle that computes you. Adds his devotion, undivided attention. Affection is irrational, the limit does not exist. But only for today. Tomorrow it’s a new page. You add your fears, his time is halved. Multiply love by the power of all the things you should have done. Two lines collide then come apart, asymptotes to the end. Never to meet again.
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The problem with love is that the equation is never balanced.
October 12 for the prompt.
