It’s been six hours since I’ve last taken
       a bite of the sandwich and I’m watching TV; 
   hearing how God is a mathematician; 
                  hearing references of how the world is a matrix; 
              numbers are bold. 
        Am I? 
                 Can boldness be defined by the way I cry, maybe 
                                     the crook in my forehead; maybe
                                 the death? 
        Can I ever be defined by anything? 
                Or does relativity truly mean nothing 
          more than dependency, making me nothing 
          more than a statement; a word.
    I’m defined by only those around me, those inside of me, 
          those bordering on either edge, begging me to 
                                     wait. 
     It’s been six hours since I’ve last 
                    looked at something I’ve believed in
         and I can’t blame it on the sandwich
                             but the way you left
                                    and the way I stood there, watching, waiting, 
                                                                                                                               knowing.

Published by Charlotte E.E. Griffiths