I feel like Alexander and Angelica.

Not quite an affair,

But structured words-

Flirtatious words.

Words that give me a second wind.

I wonder if they only hit me the way they do because in that way, under that filter, I never quite imagined you.

I think if it's merely because Eliza is mad.

Or because I'm being ignored.

Perhaps it's because I've just grown bored.

But the more I think about it, the more my emotions spiral.

My thoughts wander.

They always become lost.

You leave me confused.

Both of you.

Eliza and Angelica.

Did they not equally love Alexander?

Who fell in love first?

Truthfully.

Hamilton always seemed spilt-

But he never threw a fit

Though he knew he'd never be satisfied

I will never be satisfied

I'm too impatient for love

I've become too persistent with love

What is love meant to be?

I wrote a poem today

Formed from feelings I found within another

Words I'd never heard

Ones I'd never thought of before

How built up were your feelings?

Was it too high?

Is that the reason you let them pour?

Did you believe I'd never give you mind?

Did you think I wouldn't find them?

What was going through your head as the musical poetry fell out?

Did it walk about your fingertips?

They probably begged you to be written.

It probably left you confused.

But I read it.

And I was astonished.

They were letters to me.

Out of my belief

Who knew Angelica could torture me this way.

But my Eliza is standing right beside me.

My Eliza helped me find myself.

But did not Angelica do the same?

My Eliza has led me astray.

Angelica knows the pain.

I feel like Hamilton.

Split with confusion.

I'm always writing, I give it no rest.

I don't understand love.

I'm fooled by the letters of Angelica.

Believing I could ever be satisfied with the Schuyler sisters.

Ariah Christman