lost in translation

There are moments when I wish you could speak my language.
I would send you a poem I have just read and let it tell you how I feel.
I would leave silly messages in your inbox.
I would say bleso and you would smile because you would know what that word means to me.
And why I call you that.
I would say zagrli me instead of hug me before we fall asleep.
I would probably be ‘too much’ at some point.
That’s why most of the time it’s good you don’t speak my language.


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