It breathes you, caresses you, sings to you, comforts you, gives you directions, lavishes you with praise.

And I don’t want anything to do with that. You.

It makes no sense to pack up things and fly away, from one end of the United States to another. No part of the world makes sense with you around.

It’s not your fault. It’s like a math problem. I could figure it out. But there will always be another one after that, and another. I don’t love math. And I don’t love you. Love is solving problems. That’s really true.

So when my heart melts? In relation to you? It’s only because of relief that we aren’t odds with each other in that moment. In that very moment, relief is just relief. And it feels like a melting heart. Nothing else. Everything else, other than that, is just around the corner. Lurking. That is where the real you is.

There’s nothing  wrong with problems and the direction you take to solve them. I just want other problems, where you aren’t over my shoulder checking on my progress, when you and I both know you’ll solve it fast. And in your own way.