Letter within a Letter

Dear you,

This is a letter within a letter.

"She, she held the world within the contours of her lips. When she spoke, she let out words so confidently that it felt like the world was under her reign, and that, when she sealed her lips, the world has  fallen into momentary peace. 

He, he looked at her, visualising the words, lines, and unintentional rhythms coming out of her lips like some sort of a poet, or the remains of a poet. She wasn't trying to be poetic, and he wasn't trying to look for poems inside her; she had always been good with words, with describing how the universe worked, or at least her idea of how the universe worked. She believed in making wishes upon shooting stars in the darker days, and in days when no single star would be seen up in the sky. She saw constellations no one could see, because, as she says, there are only so many wishes you could make so that you can look up and always see stars no one could see. It was, according to her, her universe inside our own. And that was her. She spoke in the simplest words but which produced a cyclone of ideas in the minds of those listening to her.

He listened with all his senses, body, heart, and soul, wishing to catch one word of hers to put it in a sentence of his own, as musical as hers. He could see in her eyes every comet, and a galaxy of wishes she has made in every single day of her life. But he never spoke as witty as her. He always had the concise answers to every question, and that answer was within his lips like a marshamallow anyone could swallow easily. He thought that, with his words as marshamallows within his lips, and with her words like the whole world within hers, they could kiss the world away with their marshamallow dreams. They would heal the world with sealed lips, and allow dreams to free them from whatever their words will carry. Because within words lie realities, and within silence lies imagination. And no one needs words in love."

I love you.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,

N.