My mother taught me about love languages at a young age
She said that’s what makes or breaks a relationship
She said that’s why her and my father aren’t together anymore

I know a boy
He was one of those kids who you can tell wasn’t loved as much as he should have been
Those types of people have a pull on me
Maybe it’s just a silent connection between children of divorce

Usually you can tell how people want to be loved
They like to give you hugs when they see you
Or they bring you a gift after every vacation
But this boy wasn’t like that
He put my brain to work
Trying to understand him
He told me his love language was acts of service

Eventually I found myself trying to let him know he’s loved
Silently of course
Taking stickers off his laptop when he said he wanted more space
Offering to pick up coffee when he was studying
Sending him summaries of the readings we got for homework

The things I’d do to make him feel loved are insurmountable
I’d do anything to pick up the pieces I didn’t break
I wish there were an easier way to say that