Missing And Crazy

Longing. Walk slowly between our hearts. Even though we both stand in silence, far from a noise. You and I are missing each other. Both are mad at each other.

"What if I miss?" Someone asked again.

I am quiet. I don't know if it can be described in a thousand languages. Obviously, I can only be silent. Because if I speak, I won't be able to speak one language. It takes many languages ​​to express longing. If it is forced to only one language, there will only be gibberish. Loud noise from lips that are no longer able to acculturate with a brain that is squeezed by the burden.

Sometimes, if so I will ask. "Did you miss me?"

I'm ashamed if every time I'm the one who indulges in longing. I asked that because at that time, I really missed it. swell. Hard to hold on to.

I hear a lot of people going crazy. Am I part of them? Crazy because of longing that is very, very much. Crazy with an increasingly erratic heartbeat. Crazy with names that all become abstract and there is only one name that is so obvious. Crazy…

Are you just as crazy as I am? Sometimes. If we had started talking to each other I would have become silent on my own. I need time. Set the rhythm of my heart. So as not to take him off. I didn't die because suddenly the feeling of happiness stimulated my heart to race beyond its normal pace.

By the heavens, the earth and all that is in them. I miss. Missing near madness.