Unsent letters #1

The limits of my language are the limits of my world.

Then there’s you. I don’t feel for you in words. I’m afraid that leaves me with nothing to say. So, I’ll just use my hands…to hold yours. And hope that they’re listening.

I hope your fingers feel what mine feel. Science says we never truly touch anything; only come brutally close and get pushed away, at the atomic level. But it doesn’t explain why my heart is heavy and about to explode, like the universe itself at its beginning — 85 big little bangs a minute and in not one of those universes created do I feel any differently about you.

This is not writer’s block.

This is a blocked writer. With things to say but no words to say them with. The things souls say, they only say to other souls. But you’ve kept yours from mine. So, I have echoes in my dreams that I can’t hear — a loud silence. I ask you to lay bare with me. Because I read that once somebody bares their body, they are much more likely to bare their soul. And mine yearns for the company of yours.

I miss you.

11 July, 2017