Intense are the lovers who don’t speak the same language as me.
The ones who taught me its all in the eyes where passion flees.
Wondering nomads,
connected by soul’s craving to be free.
Communication created with the touching of lips.
She said everything I needed to know through her hips,
as I read her body like Braille with my fingertips.
Everyone understands the language of the tongue.
It’s the only way our hearts have a chance for its song to be sung.