Theories.

I have all these theories. About children and marriage. About opening up the boxes and feelings. About talking and silence. About how we relate and how we disconnect. About music and art.

I have all these theories. About dance parties and feeling ecstatic. About crying and feeling downtrodden. About answers and feeling like asking questions.

I have all these theories. About you. About me. About us. About the world. About life. About everything.

I have all these theories. About that prickling feeling in your skin. About that way your hands touched mine. About that kiss that never happened. About that kiss that did. About that way you talk to me. About that way you didn’t say anything.

I have all these theories. The ones that you’ll think are wrong. The ones that you’ll think are right. The ones that you’ll think are silly. The ones that you’ll think are ridiculous. The ones that you’ll think are hilarious. The ones that you’ll think you can think about another time.

I have all these theories. But I can’t say a word.

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