Nothing at all 3

I feel things too deeply and I lose myself to that part of my heart that has no business existing. There is no reason for it and yet it’s been given. What animates a puppet isn’t its strings but only the prowess of the one holding them. If you’re not careful the puppet may fall apart. There’s life to the inanimate and death to forcefulness. Something happens with my heartstrings in your hands that I can’t quite explain but makes me get up and wander aimlessly, nervously looking for you in everything that surrounds me. It’s a bit basic really but enough to have me lost in my own block. The block s not the same when I feel you not too far away; I can hear your voice in my head; and though it speaks in a wordless language, it still gets to me: your pitch, your sigh tucked away in a short sentence, the way you look at me though I’m not there. These things get to me because you’re something insurmisable. All things may have been said but there’s more to say about all that infinity that can’t be spoken aloud. You mean and keep meaning and I know nothing of it except that it’s there. I need your nose, your eyes, your lips when they part and let out a cackle: You know I don’t know why that is, I’ve told you as much, but there’s it is, tucked away in a little infinite corner of your lips, your eyes, your nose. If you touch me I’ll die but if you don’t I’ll slowly wilt away.