How does one explain in a foreign tongue

how to bundle up for winter in Paris?

I’ll never know

the language of your daily,

the language of your longing,

the language of your love.

 

I’ll never know

the reason for the red streaks through my words,

written and spoken-

A romance language,

the vein that tethers our hearts together

 

A whisper of broken lexique,

a light kiss on the cheek,

sliding in between my seams,

warming me through the vitrines,

the language of your love.