The language of love
Is not intricate,
not the tracings of love notes in the sand
Nor the filigree in the swirls of seduction
The fine details of romance soon fade
These are subterfusions
For withering hopes
The language of love
Is honest and raw
As painful as it is sublime
Holds no words
And tells no lies
Tethers gently while letting go
And for us,
untranslatable
Because we don't speak anymore.
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