I know what you're talking about.
We are in the same room, and I cannot help but
overhear your conversation.
Maybe you want me to listen –
it would explain why your volume is so loud.
Your strange words coil around me
As I watch you and some stranger talking.
It's not just your tone
or the way you keep glancing at me.
I can read well enough between the lines.
Just because I don't understand,
don't think me dumb.
Instead, I will glance away,
place myself somewhere where languages are united,
and imagine that my friend is here talking to me
about absolutely anything.
I don't want you to be over there,
excluding me from your world,
a whole culture away from mine.
Is this revenge for when I speak my language to
someone else?
To make me understand how you feel?
Surely, I've already suffered enough.
Then you call my name.
Welcoming gestures,
a sunny smile.
Translations are made,
and you've expanded my world of friends by one.
It's all so simple.
Perhaps I was wrong.
Impatient as I am,
my jealousy showed.
Warm feelings seep into my being, and
I'm touched to tears.
Paranoia must not get the better of me,
because I don't want to lose you.
After all,
you were the one who taught me so long ago in your language
how to say
“I love you.”