Once had; never more?

That of a lost cultural.

I long for the days of intellect and that of conversation.
What of the days of banter long past and a dalliance with words to wed my soul with expression? The nostalgia is but a mist of who I was and a shroud of who I desire to be, yet all the while I ache unto my infinite depths the yurn of a time long lost, for words no more, and an exchange discouraged. I beg you my love; words are my air. Do not steal my breath before I even utter a sigh, for it may be my last, my soul departed.