Telepathically Together.

She gave me words to eat for lunch and for dinner. She packed her silence in cardboard boxes and piled them up somewhere in her room. When we were in her room alone one night, I asked her if she would open one of those boxes for me.

That night
We ate silence from the same bowl.

And took baby steps towards telepathy.

She fed me warm muffins while I drove around the city ignoring the signboards. Paying attention to nothing.
Turning on instinct.
Following trees.

We were found
By the street lights

We were lost
In the right manner.

She taught me
How to be

I write for her
She cries for me.

We rely on telepathy.


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