lowercase intended-

when i fall yet again
on the same pathway
only leading up to the
house of just a different love,
i turn to the back of my math notebook.

when you leave me standing
after the declaration
which took all my courage,
i turn to the back of my math notebook.

when i catch your glimpse,
from across the classroom,
swiveling in your own universe,
fighting with your waters,
falling into your grave,
i turn to the back of my math notebook.

because you are falling apart.
just like me,
the person behind or ahead.
but i chose to see you,
for my belief determines
to fix your being.
even if in a dream
you could be mine
i was always yours.
so i turn to the back of my math notebook.

i relate you with
all the functions,
complex numbers, statistics
and probability.
for your complexity and mind
and thoughts mime
them to an extent highly identical.

my introversion holds me back
from fixing you.
i know all that you want to hear.
and in an urge i might give
you this math notebook.
too high on bravery and courage.

but my courage perishes to some extent
after every love
but may remain just sufficient
to give you this math notebook.

you might find solace
or comfort or home or shore
with whatever i feel,
and see and hold
and so
i write this at the back
of my math notebook.