how a theoretical physicist finds love (re: when science stops working)
it's in the cracks, the in-betweens, the explained unexplainables.
when freckles go from pigments,
to constellations,
to colliding molecules and supernovas.

it's the amaranthine sky filled with nuclear reactions.
and you know you could just call it rain,
instead of thinking that precipitate,
is just another word for change

and when life becomes less measured in minutes,
but more in breaths, glances, sighs,
you think its time
to stop calculating when the chemistry will be created

because in a room full of whiskey and wishes,
when it ceases to be music and instead becomes
cerulean beats and brick-red rhythms,
thinking clearly doesn't register

what was once gravity and equations
slowly, gradually, evolves into invisible hands and,
light goes from enigma,
to heart beats,
to artery explosions .

sweet words