Geometrically Speaking

The poets would have us believe
That love and logic are constantly at odds
With one another. If that were so,
No mathematician would ever feel the thrall
Of that very first
Kiss.

The obvious escapes imagination
That true love is in fact a triangle,
Made of only three sides. Her mind,
Her body and her very soul
Are all along
The vertices.

The whole must be equilateral
For the truth is clear to me now
Anything other than one-eighty degree
Perfect symmetry
Only ever results in being
An isosceles.

(And nobody wants to be an isosceles.)

So my darling, you can sit there and apply
Any theorem that you wish
To make us seem more interesting;
We will never be a scalene
No matter how much you try
Being obtuse.

I simply have to accept that, together,
It all adds up to the same length
In the end. And you need to realise
That there really is no shame
In being just a
Regular Polygon.