why not struggle to show love?
write me a letter in elvish.
poems in newspeak.
court me like i’m a victorian princess in a shakespeare play,
pale and doomed and looking out a window for symbolism.
liebe mich in german.
embrasse-moi in french.
tell me you love me in sign language
and tap it out in morse code like you’re afraid someone might hear.
let me taste your struggle by deciphering you.
i want the footnotes. i want the effort.
tell me how you feel in latin.
tell me your dreams in ancient greek,
the kind of greek that makes scholars fight.
write me poems so elliptic and subtle
i don’t realize they’re about me
until it’s weeks later and i’m brushing my teeth
and suddenly i have to sit down.
then explain them to me.
tell me what i missed.
tell me how you hid your thoughts of me
inside the words like contraband.
make things up if you have to.
if you mean it,
i don’t care.
