Words

I was barely twelve months and she was introduced as years to my future.
Coos, grunts and cries, she was advanced beyond my capacity.
We started out with playdates combining lettered blocks and constructing a primary colored basic building structure.
We grew closer as I began to mimic the sounds of her names she solidified her place in my fantasy.

Bang was the first I called when I wanted to see her, but Ma wanted to teach me, tell me what I was doing wrong when she never answered my call.
I cried and got frustrated, but the connection is what pushed one foot before the other everytime I would fall.
It wasn't my fault I didn't know how to pronounce her name.
Matter of fact, it was cupid's mis-match mark and failure to aim.

The attention of others she began to crave.
Older gentleman, smoother, suave, and able to understand how she worked and behave.
The easy routes I chose later only satisfied temporary laspes of ignorance to entertain a fraction of what words was...
She was mulit-lingual and being courted by many facets of life.
Unfulfilled but with a light bulb of inspiration, I began to understand her strife.

I neglected her.
I chose to short sound her when I should have listened and adapted.
Emphasize and alter my tone instead of hood speech contracted.

Like two opposites, she was drawn to me, pen and a paper, I inked my plan.
Adding and subtracting, I learned how to unlock her derivative and stroke her ego with a cursive of my hand.

She started to come back around, picking up where we left off;
But with additional syllables, I caressed her Rs with the roll of my tounge, tasting every consonant and vowel from South to North.

Just like old times, she let me bring a friend to the mix.
Mixing and matching, we swinging meanings.  A love connection in the making, a constructed bliss.

She's happy as long as I can keep being creative.
Document our escapades, publish the non-explicit, and alter my speech to sound foreign or native.

I was built for this relationship, acquainted kinship, love affair.
Yo puedo passer mon styles quasi aurae of the air.
(I can (Spanish) switch up my (French) styles like the breeze (Latin) of the air. (English))

Arch1tekt™