the blue

by
there… where you are too afraid to get in…
there is hidden the treasure you sought…

will not coming home to you but will wait
somewhere in the blue wing of the moon

it'll stalk you if you give your soul to those
who promised you the magic of paradise
in lieu of one who'll follow you even in hell

so be vigilant, —
this, it isn't my confession but your frisson
plotted exactly as hell was made in heaven

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walk right in

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salut, — allez, bisous

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when the fire hits the sea

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heavenly

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the climate of my thoughts it's consumed into a kiss soft, long, wild, heavenly my mind invokes you with all arguments of lust thirsted as an empty pen your silhouette is contoured by my eyes, using their color attired in the outfit of love my breath is modulated with all whispers of your touches mysterious felt on my body you, sculptor of my thoughts, the climate you set in me
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