For once I realized that the words held less power than the gods that have proved not to exist or perhaps simply not to care. No combination could add up to you but the smoke still felt an accurate representation. I see the letters as bandages and kisses and any other form of healing but critical condition cannot be debated with. The ends of the earth are not long enough to show how far I would go but perhaps the inexistance is exactly the metaphor I am searching for. I am sure if I found it I would be lost but maybe that was the point all along. The softness of your voice hit me hard and that is the best kind of oxymoron but the way I see it is the irony of my words having no texture at all. The emptiness of this world has become pathetic fallacy and this started off as a way to say sorry and ended saying that I have no idea what I want to say, or really, how to say anything at all.

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