Maybe you’re just terrified that the distance will take over the already empty spaces between your words. Then again, how close are they now? Should’ve never said them in the first place. You kept infixing the wrong meanings into the almost right words and that’s how you ended up here, talking to yourself. Do they mean the same to her as they do to you? How would I know? More like “what would they mean if they didn’t mean anything to you?” Whatever that is, is exactly what they would mean to her. I hate how you always make sense to me yet I’m the one who’s called crazy when I tell people the same stuff that you tell me. Wait, are you crazy? We’ve had that conversation already. Maybe it’s because you don’t say it the way I do. Or they don’t hear it the way YOU do. Remember how you “INFIXX” the wrong meanings into the almost right words? Why would you “INFIXX” my infix? I like that word. No, it’s not a made up word. And I agree. But language is overrated. Everything we’ve ever read is just a different combination of the same twenty-six letters. Wait, why do you always do this? We were talking about her. Let’s talk about her. I like talking about her. Why are you even writing this down? I’m about to post it on the internet. Hellopoetry? This is not even a poem. You could’ve paragraphised it at least. Is that a made up word? ...yes.
Her at the edge of mindlessness
Yet he is the one who keeps me sane.