My love language is a conversation that only grows with time.

My love language is a conversation that only grows with time.

The vocabulary includes,
Small talk,
Hand holding,
Vocal expression,
Jokes that let you set the filter,
Untimed exaggerated facial expressions,
Awkward hugs to greet; depart.
Side hugs//Front hugs//Bear hugs,
In this house we entertain all kinds of hugs.
At times, ones that seem to last a bit too long.
Their tones vary,
Yet there is no action so undeserving that it compels one to act astray.

There are days the vocabulary is limited to silent grunts and words that simply hold back.
There were days I am told I was too loud with my words and so they befell ears to whom they were too foreign.
Too lost in translation to be interpreted,
Too unkempt to be digestible.
If you go looking for what my words mean,
Would you find them?

Jaan g,
Would you have tested me with my time,
I'd offer to make every second count.
Would you have tested my words,
You would find them later, clad in stone.
Ink stains wet even upon parchments that have long been forgotten.

And you do; test me.

My love resides in sitting by your side,
It is to force you to eat,
To drink and fill your thirst,
To move and fill your heart,
To speak and remain silent.
To rest and remain reliant,
Our time is my love language.

Even when mumbled,
Even when hymned.

So on days when you speak in only your tongue,
You come to terms with what you have allowed to hear.
Do not mistake a mistranslation for tyranny,
Do not even an odd.
Our time is my love language.

Were there realms that could stop the miseries that befall humans,
Like time.
Our time,
One could measure?
There in befalls tyranny to every singularity;
Every second spent,
Came with layers I peel off myself.

How you find your way back to me,
How you allow,
Every minute of the day,
To all collect into days to weeks.
To months,
Forgetting.

For months before I have resided on a path that you enter,
Let time be a love language.