We, a lover and a poet,
ink a thousand paper romances
where yours begin with once upons,
and mine with ever afters

We, a dead star and a supernova,
race two very distant, different galaxies
where you, lose your light sooner
and I, all control

We, a variable and a constant,
form an infinity of expressions
where I'm no greater than you are equal to
and sum up a living, breathing paradox:

that I, a wit,
am a fool chasing rainbows
that the gold I find for, (you)
found me

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