M.I.

My brain is alight with a sentience. It burns with a demand:

Speak.

The words are impotent.

Nothing can be lost with an army of words at your fingertips.

Yet I’m scrambling for a manifestation that doesn’t live in the barracks.

When the only way we’ve ever learned to communicate loses its potency, what then?

When they stop. When the words don’t work. Won’t work.

What then?

Simplicity necessitates a simple form of communication.

I’d like to reach out and touch your hand with a shy, hesitant finger

Hope you understand my intentions in only their simplest form

"Have you no idea that you're in deep?

I dreamt about you nearly every night this week 

How many secrets can you keep?

'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow

and I play it on repeat

until I fall asleep"