I have my language:
my eyes when I look
into your eyes
my hands when I play
to cross the oceans of your
body.
You have your language,
your way of saying
“don’t leave” or “I’m here”
to tell me with your eyes just
what I needed.
We have our language:
when passion comes to live
between us,
when we share a small breath
a breakfast,
a fear,
when we close the windows
and pretend that morning
hasn’t come.
(Paris 15/05/01)
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