there’s always this saying that love completes
a person, like a jigsaw piece meeting its neighbour
loneliness is a terrible thing, I admit
no matter how you fill them there are always spaces
and no matter who you talk to there are always more words

but when no one could understand my jagged edges
I never needed anyone to make me whole
not like petals to a flower, or sodium to chlorine
I’m glad I met you when I’m mature enough to understand
that I’m not afraid of being alone
you don’t complete me
because we are already individually complete
each a full puzzle replete with its many secrets
each a noble gas

you don’t complete me
you are not my sun–we are two colliding stars
found each other after years of trekking through the coldness of the universe
the way the chaotic mathematical space of probability says “surprise!”

not in the way a jigsaw puzzle piece desperately needs its neighbour
to fill its gaps of emptiness
no I don’t need you to complete me, I never did
you are
a wonderful wonderful gift
from a mathematical conspiracy of the universe
(just get in the box >D)