I have lost my words. They ran away from me, betraying me, leaving me alone to fend for myself. I stare blankly. I realize my loss and find nothing but words that are no longer mine.
I have lost my words. Perhaps they shall come back. Until then, I remain hesitantly silent, imploding with grief, leaving a vast silence in my wake.
It never gets easier. The void is infinite, tangible, raw. I strain to listen. No, the words are no longer there.
Did you find them? Don’t give them back. I don’t deserve a voice. There are no echoes in a vacuum – the presence of an absence soothes me.
The words have been lost. I have lost. But if you find my words, keep them safe. My words will never be mine again.
Did you find them? I don’t need my words if I have yours. So, whisper to me. Tell me my story. You know it too well. After all, you have my three words.