native tongue

There is only one language I speak fluently
I’m using it today
It’s the language they understand better than anything
It rolls off my tongue
Second nature

It’s sexual currency I’ve been saving
So much to spend
Who cares about the rate of exchange
I’m used to the added cost by now
Even though I can’t help but complain

And he agreed to speak instead of finger the words he wanted to say
And it flowed and flowed in my head
I turned it up
In my car
In my body
He wanted to find me
On the floor
Lost in fantasy about his words
“You have no idea”
Yes I do
It’s my only idea

Flooded with surges and aches
Stuck in the fluorescence and desk world
Writing here
Because being bilingual means you’re looking and thinking and speaking different things
And he’s somewhere barely moved I’m sure
Except a moment when his voice
Wafts in and tells me what he’s thinking
And it’s all mine
Even if he’s having multiple conversations

I thought I wanted to put away this vernacular
I thought it was old and outdated
I thought it was a dead language
peccata minuta
Not so much now
Il est partout

I can’t shut my mouth
Unless he’s kissing it
And even then the words slip out
Because tongues are transportation
Escape for thoughts
For Yes
For Please
For More

for we are travelers
in search of the familiar
What better way to acclimate
Than find another like other
Feels like home maybe
Or something easier
Than the struggle and grasp
For a dialogue you never understand
No matter how many times you repeat the dated phrasing
“I’m not that kind of girl”


2 thoughts on “native tongue

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