In Love With Words

I do not know who you are, but you write like me. I might venture out to say that you may even think like me, but for now, I will say that you write like me. And that is good enough.

Back in the romantic days, I wrote on wide-ruled paper with a papermate blue-ink pen or the carvings of a No. 2 pencil. But now, I type. I can't ever say anything poetic that uses computer terms as its lines.

I can still try.

In our search for nothingness, I hope that the pitter patter of my Times New Roman can meet the heartbeats of your Arial, and find a world where nothing is aiite.

That was horrible.
But you laughed.
Because you write like me. And I may even venture to say that you may think like me.
Too.