'French,' she told us, 'Is the language of love'

She sounded like she knew what she was talking about

She was a professor after all

So I wrote it down in my notebook

But then I stopped paying attention and I started thinking

Because I don't know French

But I think I know the language of love

 

It was the pattern of inhales and exhales

As you and I would breathe in eachother's presence 

And the way your fingers would linger on my hips

Even as I started to walk away

The language of love was when your snores broke

After you woke up in the middle of the night

And how you would always pull me closer

It was our voices, screaming every song on the radio

As the wind pounded in through my car windows

Love is the language we spoke at five in the morning

When half-sleeping we agreed it was time for me to go

It was our laughter, in harmony, that next day

When I re-told the story of your father catching me sneaking out

Love was the gaze we shared

The moment before our first kiss

It was my shrieks when you pulled me into the water

And the silence as we took off our clothing in the darkness

Skinny-dipping in the moonlight

Love was the language we spoke during that summer together

The side-glances, the laughter, the inside jokes

Every word we spoke, sound we heard, movement we made, and emotion we felt

Love was our language

And while I haven't spoken it in awhile

I know

That when I begin to speak the language of love again

I'll remember fondly the boy who made me so fluent