deep words…

We live and breathe words. …. It
was books that made me feel that
perhaps I was not completely alone.
They could be honest with me, and I
with them. Reading your words, what you
wrote, how you were lonely sometimes
and afraid, but always brave; the way
you saw the world, its colors and
textures and sounds, I felt–I felt the way
you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I
was dreaming and thinking and feeling
with you. I dreamed what you dreamed,
wanted what you wanted–and then I
realized that truly I just wanted you.


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