Scent of spices and cardamon,
stealing the breath.
The heart is a thief plundering our feeling.
Our nights are robbed.
True passion lies in the tickling of our body senses,
foraying into un-chartered territories.
We call it love yet crave for lust.
The human body is everything but an illusion.
Like the soul, we wander faraway yet the journey is unknown.
We call the emotions love,
bringing depth to feeling and words.
We become emotional wrecks,
caught in the maelstrom of passion.
A silly passionate affair that leaves a smile as we hark back in future.
It's the only language we know,
existence and the heart.