Talk to me...

Talk to me! Even if your words could bring the world to its knees. Even if the sun burned out and turned into a charred sphere in a greying sky.

Talk to me! Let the blue heavens collapse, let them bleed with the crimson of the setting sun, let them paint everything around us red.

Talk to me! Let the winds spin tornadoes around us, let the storms tear through our native forests, let the beasts howl as if foretelling disaster.

Talk to me! Even if I were standing on the edge of an abyss, even if there were no bridge left between us.

Talk to me! Shout whatever it is you have—or long—to say. Just don’t fall silent.

Talk to me, even if words fail you. Even if you don’t know what to say or how to say it. Even if your eyes lie in the language of silence. Still—talk to me. Speak through that senseless quiet, and I will catch its dying syllables somewhere deep in my numb soul, buried beneath the rustle of fallen leaves. I will understand the whisper of the wind and cradle its echo in my torn heart.

Just talk to me! Speak in a language I understand. And if I don’t, I will learn it. I will translate every ringing and soundless word, and with them—soft as cotton—I will dress the bleeding wounds of my heart. I need those words to heal. I need those sentences, however short or meaningless, to find my way back to you. I need your voice, even if it’s silent, so I can breathe. I need your scent so I can be at peace. I need you, so life can make sense again.

Talk to me! It doesn’t matter what you say. It doesn’t matter how you say it. Just talk. Don’t be silent. And I will piece myself back together from those scattered, fleeting, maybe even meaningless words. I’ll weave them into a mosaic—a story about us. Two people completing each other, sitting quietly in a valley, watching oak leaves fall without a word between them.

And then—you speak. The first words. I catch them like gulps of air, I drink them in, and my soul begins to heal. A million tiny shards melt into one crystal vessel. I open my eyes and see the autumn valley, wrapped in its cloak of colors, and I feel you beside me—so vividly. Your voice is like an elixir of life. It pulls me from my dusty sleep and breathes me back into being. You speak, and I feel safe. Just keep talking. Don’t stop. Your voice wraps around me like a child’s blanket, and I sink into your scent as if into a bed of down.

Just talk. Because when you do, I know you’re near—and that’s all I need now. I need it so I won’t break, so I won’t lose myself, so I can gather my scattered pieces from a million shards of crystal.

Just talk. I’ll close my eyes for a moment—but you, keep talking. Don’t stop. Only when darkness surrounds me do I feel the most. I feel you—more deeply than ever before. Just talk. Talk to me and with me. I can hear you now—not only with my soul, but with all of me. I hear your words—soft, calm, deliberate. You’re speaking to me. And the world does not collapse. The sun still shines. The wind rests. The beasts do not howl. You speak, and I grow still. Only hot, salty tears slide down my cheeks, stripping me bare in my helplessness. But talk. Don’t stop. And I will find my way back from the abyss I’ve fallen into. Just talk to me. Hold me close and whisper gentle, simple words—those that only we understand. Just talk...