The Language of Souls

I love her when she cries.
I wrap her heart in my hands,
And taste her tears,
Like salty sunsets,
Between my lips.

I need her when she sighs.
Her breath takes mine away,
And I drink her in through my eyes,
Like a man dying of thirst.

She is the language of my soul,
The voice of my desire.

I taste her tears,
Like salty sunsets between my lips,
A sorrow I can't enfold.

And a piece of my soul dies with her each night,
to be reborn, in love, not as "I" but as "Us".