The difference between you and I is how we write “and” 

You curve it at the top like a backwards treble clef 

As troubled and curved as the others in your life 

​

While I 

I am a backwards three 

I am a number really, perhaps a calculation error 

And I don’t see forward, I turn my back 

So in the center of my gravity I then slash a line right through me 

Amidst saying “and” 

What might you do? 

With your curvy life and paved roads through endless treble music and major chord notes that soothe Everyone but my own ears 

How might you react, to understanding what others must live with? 

​

Our differences are in our ands and how we write “and” in our shorter terms 

That as short as our love 

​

We raised our lines and we drew our masterpiece to complete our story and what did you leave me with? You left me with “and” 

Not music, not the beauty in my distant curves or the symmetry in my backwards three A backwards three with a line slashed through her 

A world of music dancing round her 

​

We lie in how we write our and’s 

And yours is as fast and as natural as you expect me 

While mine is simple but takes time and is backwards of the truth which represents myself I am and, you are and 

And we are two different meanings of the same word