Talking Can Be Virtue Too

“Talking can be love too,” said he who lives in a house where no one speaks unless spoken to. “Virtue, too, can be a vice. Virtue isn’t always so nice. Neither is silence without another point of view. I just want to speak to you, can’t you see all that you have done, all that you do? Doing ain’t so great when it is all that you have done. Why all this staring down all that you fear? What is a life without fun? I can’t hear you. Won’t you speak of life ahead of you, and why is it always so dark behind you? Loving? I can’t love you. We are both just someone who’s there. What to think about love when it works, what to think when you know that it just wasn’t for you? You were never oh, so near me that I heard about the times you cried or the loved ones who died. But here we are growing old and some things you never thought to accept wrap you up like a package of produce with other items that don’t necessarily have to match, they just can’t spoil one another.”

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