s: and then, thinking about spending time with you alone makes me think of a completely different set of tangential thoughts. 

l: like?

s: more abstract

l: hmmm ok….

s: more like feelings and racing thoughts.

l: i can understand that.

s: chemicals, reactions to light. that feeling i  get when you stop touching my body. the dissolution of all the stuff i mentioned involving other people. the contraction of a universe, in a way.

l: god i love the things you say. your way with words is stunningly beautiful.

s: the numbers and the lines. things others have told me, stolen and repurposed for you and only you. a hesitant investment of the things that matter to me.

l: only you can make me speechless.

s: i doubt that very much, sir.

l: you just did.

s: nothing to say? you? hmm.  i’m in an odd mood. glyphs and characters are my best friends and my most elusive weapons.

l: i’m not used to someone using speech in such a magnificent way. takes me aback in a way i’ve never exprienced.

s: is it magnificent? most people get lost. they get angry when they can’t navigate the paths i haphazardly lay.

l: i’m not lost, i feel found.

s: they tell me to stop talking in riddles, stop taking in stray typos. leave suggestions and language for the sake of language at the door.

l: i want every word you have. every sound, every syllable.

s: why? they’re not important. or monumental. they’re not destined for big things or small print. this is just how it sounds in my brain. imagine extracting common conversation from this kind of thought at a 1:1 ratio.

l:  your opinion of the importance of your words is of little consequence when they cause new emotional reactions inside me.

s: i’ve spent years snipping and sniping stray syllables. turning text to trivialized transactions. thoughtless, tuneless chatter. no fun, no cadence, no meter to drive their maker mad…. i’m shaking because i’m terrified.

l: of what?

s: being who i am. i’m editing even now.

l: being you is what has captured my imagination, don’t stop.

s: what happens when i step over a line? or when i get so far away i can’t get back? when i flirt with words and the idea of who you are, and i won’t stop?

l: that won’t change a thing. i’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.

s: but what will you do while i’m away, obsessing over not repeating, never reusing a main word.

l: i think you should stop thinking and obsessing.

s: how will you feel when i’m cheating on you with all the dead remnants of thoughts written down for posterity?

l: i feel like you’re asking questions without answers.

s: how could something  that esoteric ever have an answer.

l: my point exactly.

s: are you mad i asked it?

l: never.

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