writings on math, logic, philosophy and art...

Love

Every time you eat mushrooms,

I have to try them too.

Cause, if the mushrooms turn out to be poisonous and you die of slow and painful dead,

I will die as well.


I once dreamed that I was dying,

You were beside me, I turned to you and said,

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Written on May 27, 2025

More: personal poetry