When you speak to me,

you disappear like ocean waves.

You only return

when your friend

translates your words.

“You never understand me!”

You slap my fingers with a rigid ruler,

but it’s less painful than before.

Before,

you were more present.

You were like homemade lemonade or orange juice,

more sweet than sour.

Now you’re like salt water.

My eyes itch.

My fingers hurt.

I don’t have many words to talk to you

like I do with your friend.

Your friend is calm.

Maternal.

With the patience of a good teacher,

she offers words and alternatives.

You’re her shadow,

looking for a place to shine.