i've seen it defined as two people feeling or thinking alike.
my teacher defined and hoped that each of us would find someone
who shares our same mind, to fit together as puzzle pieces.
i recall how odysseus longed to return to his cunning wife because
she was as wiley as him, fending off the suitors who wanted her
hand and to ring their hands with the abandoned gold of her husband.

i hoped to apply that word to us but
the word doesn't suit what we are.
i don't think we're of the same mind,
and i don't think you've thought otherwise.
taking a look at our recent monotone stalemate,
instead of adding up the sum of our parts so
we're greater together, i divide us apart with
a slash of my teeth and i tear into you, but
behind these canines that snap and maul is me
with half a mind and a split tongue, hoping
you'd see that i may say things mindlessly,
the venom i spit, though it's lighter than
the air i breathe, it weighs heavy like stone
when it lands on your skin, and it's acidic
as it burns you through all the layers
i've torn down, the ones you meticulously built up
again and again because i'm the common dividend
and i won't stop until it all reaches zero,
the final layer or none, i want it all until
there's nothing left.

maybe i'm draining you past the final straw
and i pay no mind to what i do, but even now
i realize that's what i'm doing. small parts
at first are broken, until you put it all
together and it's jagged and won't fit and
you feel drained because it's falling apart
and my head is spinning with whiplash because
there's different meanings that i don't mean
but i can't bring myself to unsay because
maybe i want you to hurt, like how i've hurt
before, but i can't even remember the pain
without looking at the scars and speaking into
existence the memories that i'm letting slip
away. maybe i hope you'll fix whatever i broke
since you know you better than me, and since
you always say you'll fix things, there's no
need for me to lift a finger, because i'm
somehow perfect to you? i don't understand when
all i'm doing is hurting you and hoping it hurts
or hoping it doesn't hurt at all, and i want to
bite down on my own tongue and swallow the poison.
it isn't fulfilling, sucking the life out of the
conversation until i get jealous of you typing
on your keyboard. i want to sew my mouth shut.
cut my fingers too, so i don't claw at your flaws.

some part of me hopes you'll find your homophrosyne,
because i don't feel like i'm adding anything.
i don't feel like i can walk around your mind at all.
i'm only taking away and away until you're a shell
of your former self. you've expressed that to me
before, but what am i to do. what am i to do with
the parts i've already taken away from you. i've done
nothing to lift you up higher than myself. and here
i am hoping you'll find the right words to say.
usually at the end of things, there's a resolution,
but i don't want things to end, and therefore there's
no resolution. only promises made without the word,
and less and less hope that things will get better.
i don't know when to stop, you don't know when to go.
if you've nothing to say, don't say it. i'll wait
for the sun to rise tomorrow, because i've forgotten
to not trust my feelings past my bedtime.