What am I doing wrong?

I pour myself into witty conversation, but you remain mute.

I stir in sugary comments designed to get you upset, but you’re still mum.

I sip your love and wonder if I return it in full. Doesn’t one always give more?

We’ve been together virtually every morning for decades, yet

I know so little about you. Yet without you, I would not function. You, however, would find somebody else.

You pick me up in the middle of the afternoon and our souls dance together.

You talk to me in a different language that I’m slowly learning, oh sexy, four pumps venti, white chocolate macademia nut frappucino.