We had a language you and I.
Not of lips or hips or trembles.
but of words, and thoughts
and the tangles between ideas and emotions.

And now that you are gone the words I once spoke you
try to push through my lips, my body convulses
to speak again that tongue we taught each other.
that language we shared.

Sometimes when I speak with others I hear echoes of it
and I try to form complex sentences that belonged
to our language.

But they are not of our kind,
no one is of as much my kind sometimes I feel,
as you were of mine.

And so now I sit a tourist in the world,
and sometimes at night I remember
that once I had a home-country with you
and a tongue.