the gradient,
and how it transformed with the
dip in the small of your back.
falsely showing itself to be consistent,
when we both know that you waver
at least once a month.
and so what,
of the uncertainty and anguish?
so what, of the
future and its woes?
who are we, desolate in the eyes of others,
cheerful in the hearts we carry,
to want to alter the waves,
instead of ride them?