We talk with the outsides of words, skimming the surface. not saying what we really feel. At one time it was enough. It was enough to hear your voice, to listen to how you formed the words, to imagine the cadences underneath, the things unsaid.
Your smile was enough.
And now your smile has disappeared.
Your words have disappeared.
And when I have nothing, those empty words, those soufflé, meringue words, are not enough.
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