I.   All I wanted was to know how it felt to be stuck inside the inner chambers of your mind, to know what your dreams look like, to remove my own rose-tinted glasses and see this corner of the world through your eyes. I wanted more nights like the ones we used to have, and I wanted words, I wanted music- but we were never saying the same things, the songs were always different and I could have been okay with that, but my hunger for honesty didn't mix well with your fear, your uncertainty with my self-doubt. Your pride with mine. This distance. I've been doing a lot of wondering this summer, and sometimes I wonder about you. Have the words stopped coming? Have the thoughts stopped visiting you at night? I wonder about you, sometimes.

II.   All the times that we dreamt about each other, we were never really there. Our subconscious subjected us into constantly searching for the other, but never, ever finding. We kept waving our hands around in the dark, looking for something to grasp but all we had were just ghosts and shadows that we kept trying to hold seconds before they slipped right through our fingertips.

III.   I meant what I wrote when I scribbled "Let's keep in words" because words were what brought us here anyway, and somehow, I believed that they would be enough.

IV.   But we are the walking, breathing examples of what happens when people run out of things to say, and when too many things get in the way. Add our names to the list of things that don't last.

V.   We wanted a lot of things (or maybe that was just me) but all we have is doubt, questions, and silence.