The whispering Blood

Everybody's blood has an innate language.
It is not necessarily the first one they spoke, their mother tongue, or the one they feel most comfortable speaking. 

One recognizes it by how the news in that language makes their blood boil faster, how songs get their tears flowing more often, as well by how words of yearning in one particular language seem to be always under the tongue and ready to be set loose. 

It is curious how happiness does not seem to need a proper language, and how joy is as intense even without words while everyone has one certain tongue in which sorrow crawls faster all over their skin and horror finds the shortest path to their marrow. 

If you love someone learn to listen to their blood's language and maybe how to say a few words every now and then, so that they know you claim a place by their side in joy as in sadness.