You Spoke My Langauge
In a foreign country,
you were the first one I met
who spoke my language.
My tongue twisted in a knot
that only you could untangle.
The words flowed off your lips,
fiercely,
fluently,
and boldly.
Your eyes saw every piece
of who I used to be,
but that didn't change how many times
you told me you loved me.
You were the shooting star
I wished on
for so many years.
You were the glow-in-the-dark stars
that my dad plastered on the ceiling,
in my childhood home.
You were every kiss goodnight,
and reason to rise without fear.
You were the star I landed beside
when I missed the sun.
But you made me appreciate the darkness,
and the silent stillness.
I miss every piece of telling you
I love you.
But you will always be the cricket I hear
at a campfire.
And the first one I trusted.
The first one I touched.
The first one who kissed me.
The first one who spoke my language.
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