They say the language of love is written inside us, Woven in threads of red and blue. The red thread runs deep, Pulsing with fire, surging life from the heart to every corner. We feels in the warmth of a hand held too long, In the quickening breath when eyes meet, In the restless ache of wanting someone you cannot forget. The blue thread flows the other way, Cool as midnight water in winter, Carrying the day's weight back to the heart to purify. It whispers in the hush after a storm, Carrying the ache of words left unsaid, Yet with quiet peace of knowing that the heart still waits. It is the