Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
The language I write in is not my language
But it is the language of my thoughts.

This is not the language I spoke to my parents
That is not the language I speak to my love
That is not the language I spoke on the streets
That is not the language I prefer to read
That is not the language I spoke to my first kiss

So then, what is my language?
Is it the language of my great-grandparents?
And if so, which one?

Is it the language of saudade,
Habibi, cariΓ±o, or serendipity?

My language is none of these
And all at the same time.
Written by
Oiciruam  26/M/USA
(26/M/USA)   
195
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems