Subtle Language

She was upset with me
"How did you not notice when we climbed on your roof and shouted your name? We watched the sunset without you."

And I was amazed at how she didn't notice my windows were dark and my car was gone.
And I was watching the sunset somewhere else.

We both were making our stances known without directly saying it,
"This is not my home"
"But why don't you just try to make it your home."

We spoke different languages.
Her language was spoken as flips off a waterfall
And mushroom tea in the fridge. Making her presence known with laughter.

Mine was holding a chrysalis in my hand, feeling it's life waiting to burst out, though it never moved. Taking some time to find a safe spot for it to continue its metamorphosis.
Once again, falling far behind in the rows of swiss chard.

"I had a dream I woke up and you were gone and your shed home was empty. Don't disappear like that."
I can't remember what I said in response. Let's be honest I'm not the best at talking about myself. Or talking at all really.

I was out of place, though I won't take all the blame. When everyone is finding themselves it can get a little messy. I wasn't ready for where I was but I needed to be there. I didn't stay long.

I packed my things alone. I didn't tell anyone, but how could they not notice me carrying my lamp to my car or that my plants no longer cluttered the path to my door?

My language was too quiet. Maybe it was on a different frequency. I had become so small in ways deeper than my shrinking waste. I was already disappearing. And I think back on all the times I thought I was screaming but I wasn't making a sound.