I spent years learning

how to speak to her without words.

I spoke her language so fluently

that knowing her mood

was second nature.

But while I studied her, 

And made her language

second to mine,

she never took the time

to learn how to speak 

to me in the same way.

Example:

bushes of love is a comfort song,

and when jamming out to it

I just wanted someone to be silly

with me.

In those moments,

I never wanted to be taken

too seriously.

She didn’t get that.

But I knew

all of her silly quirks.

I know

All of her silly quirks.

And they don’t matter now.

All of her mannerisms are wrapped up

In this language

that I spent so much time learning.

But in the end 

I have no one to speak it with.