it is not my intention to let my silence be the language that we would use with each other beloved. its just that there are just some days, most days actually, that i would like to cover the ocean of distance between us and yet see myself unable to do so. i am a starving struggling poet, you know that, and i am one because of choice.
not hearing my voice, not hearing anything from me in any manner does not mean that i do not whisper your name whenever i wake up and before i sleep. my silence does not mean that you are forgotten, discarded.
but i cannot blame you if you would doubt, and feel otherwise.
i am just here, here where you are not. wish you were here.
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