This is me trying to reach you.
In networking, communication does not occur simply because a message was sent. The message must be received, understood, and acknowledged. Without that shared understanding, each side may believe it has communicated while the connection continues to fail. Relationships can work the same way.
One person may express love through actions: preparing something, remembering a need, leaving a light on. The other may express love through words, reassurance, attention, or the hope of being visibly chosen. Both people may be sincere. Both may be faithful. Both may still feel unseen.
This is not about the absence of love. It is about love that needs translation. We kept sending signals. Neither of us knew how to receive.
You start my car in winter dark, slip back inside before I wake. I keep a list of what you love and call it running errands. You never say the word out loud — you build it into things. I say it every morning till it's wallpaper.
And the porch light burned all night again — I figured you forgot. I was listening for thunder. You'd been speaking in the rain.
You leave your love in ways I miss. I leave mine hoping you will see. Two faithful signals in the dark, and neither knows how to receive. Somewhere between those languages we misplaced "we."
we misplaced "we."
When you go quiet, I hear verdicts. When I ask twice, you hear doubt. Every silence comes subtitled in a voice that isn't yours. I read your mercy like a sentence — something served instead of said. You were only catching your breath. I was already entering a plea.
The words I need the most are the ones I can't ask you to say. I wrote a rule you never read: if I have to ask, it doesn't count.
You leave your love in ways I miss. I leave mine hoping you will see. Two faithful signals in the dark, and neither knows how to receive. Somewhere between those languages we misplaced "we."
we misplaced "we."
If I have to ask, it doesn't count. If you pause, you're picking parting words. If you're tired, I'm the reason. If you're kind, it's charity. If you're honest, it's a door. Who drafted these? Who signed these? I did. I did — in handwriting I don't remember learning.
What if you've been saying it in the only tongue you own? What if ordinary kindness is the loudest thing you know?
I prayed for burning bushes. You kept baking bread. I've been starving on my knees beside a table you had set. So tonight I won't ask twice.
TONIGHT I TAKE THE BREAD.
You were talking the whole time — I was waiting for my name in a voice you never had. You leave your love in ways I keep. I leave mine where you can see. Two faithful signals in the dark and I am learning to receive. Somewhere between those languages, we can find "we."
Don't remember who I was. Learn the one standing here. You don't have to say it my way. I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm still here.