Your real language
Lives where you least want it
And has its own mouth
Your real language
Is one of distance
That tires you before
You even took the first step
Your real language
Is one of fatigue you resist
Barrel through
Slither around
Before you ever let her
Speak to you in gravity
Your real language
Is one of avoiding
The very thing
That still breathes only
So it might one day
Have you back
Your real language
Is one of grief
For having insisted
That all this struggle
Will win you something
You were never meant to earn
Your real language
Is one of rage
For having bent
So elegantly out of shape
Everyone mistook
Your absence for flexibility
Your real language
Is one of discomfort
That achingly faithful friend
That never stops trying
To catch you up
With yourself
Your real language
Is one of slowing down
Enough to let it all find you
Finding your own breath amid
Voices that still believe
You can only keep running
Your real language
Is one of thawing
For the first time since
Ice age descended
To keep you alive enough
For the day you're able
To love the consequences
Of your own stubborn
And undeniable pulse
Your real language
Is one of saturation
With waters ****** and ancient
That carry spiral time
All the time ever afforded
To meet yourself whole
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 8:14 PM UTC
Your real language
Lives where you least want it
And has its own mouth
Your real language
Is one of distance
That tires you before
You even took the first step
Your real language
Is one of fatigue you resist
Barrel through
Slither around
Before you ever let her
Speak to you in gravity
Your real language
Is one of avoiding
The very thing
That still breathes only
So it might one day
Have you back
Your real language
Is one of grief
For having insisted
That all this struggle
Will win you something
You were never meant to earn
Your real language
Is one of rage
For having bent
So elegantly out of shape
Everyone mistook
Your absence for flexibility
Your real language
Is one of discomfort
That achingly faithful friend
That never stops trying
To catch you up
With yourself
Your real language
Is one of slowing down
Enough to let it all find you
Finding your own breath amid
Voices that still believe
You can only keep running
Your real language
Is one of thawing
For the first time since
Ice age descended
To keep you alive enough
For the day you're able
To love the consequences
Of your own stubborn
And undeniable pulse
Your real language
Is one of saturation
With waters ****** and ancient
That carry spiral time
All the time ever afforded
To meet yourself whole
