My flower lover

There are many languages,
Languages of tongue and languages
Of love.
Words, time, touch, gifts and more.

I never knew my tongue,
So I couldn't speak.
Until I met him, my language he is.
Words and time, touch with me as gift.

He calls me his flower.
Not being able to resist,
I have watched him in trouble,
When he brimmed his seed into his fist.

I taught him all I meant
About the blue ocean bliss.
I learnt too, he likes his flowers bent
Oh, how dirty flower boy is.