If We Meet Again

: How will I ever reach you?"—I'll have to learn to write about you; it's terribly difficult!
: Why?

: My vocabulary is limited, not rich enough.
: What if you flip through dictionary pages?
: No.
: Writing needs some provisions—a little love, some longing, your touch. Have you looked at your feelings? Against feelings, this abundance of words is utterly insignificant—what you possess.

: Am I truly able to write thinking of you? Do you read what I write?
: I don't just read—I feel it intensely. How did you absorb me so completely?

: A difficult question, I'll have to think.
: I know, you deliberately didn't give the answer.
: The answer was already there in your question. If I don't talk with you, I'll suffer terribly for you—but I'll never tell you that.
: What are you saying! You can't leave me, leave yourself—and go anywhere.

: Our talking isn't necessary.
: And our feelings?—You understand it's necessary to speak of them?
: Ha ha ha. Don't indulge me so much.
: What harm is there in indulging someone who is entirely my own?

: Do you love me?
: Why are you crying?
: Stay well—if we ever meet again someday, then wipe away my tears.