hunt

you’ve diluted it down to numbers and letters -
crunching away at insignificant symbols
representing nothing, but everything
outside of what was felt as we laid on the mattress
framed by last year’s christmas lights, and
dressed in photographs of preceding times.
you set equations probing for an answer,
but the solution cannot be found in petty jargon.
you’ve already discovered the answer -
it is creased into your sheets
and laminated onto your skin,
but you are too busy
calculating and memorizing foreign hieroglyphics
to witness the tantalizing friction floating between us.