too much pride

by
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we're longing for love
but we are so full of pride
so damn too much pride

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give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain

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Under the influence of the moon's breeze, music witchery is touching me and metamorphose me in the whispers of stars, properly orchestrated by your wildish thoughts, making me look like a tableaux vivant out of your preferred color palette in the abstract, as if we're meant to be metaphysical as one. Under the influence of the moon's breeze, your incantations appears organized, whenever, wherever, and in any way ever, inciting me to add additional loves' names to your love for me. Under the influence of the moon's breeze and of its charisma, I invoked dream's power to lure you inside my unpredictability to mention your name, – ( give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain ).
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… outmoded are those that wanted you and me not to get together; outraged , the time wanted to be in trend too and paralyzed the seconds, both of us to roam like two crazy between each other's thoughts; but the moon intervened and with gold threads it glazed our souls; the sea, dancing in circles through you and me, it dressed us with her breeze in a mating ritual of senses , to dispel away everything we felt as a homework of culpability; even if we've got puzzled …, nothing and nobody could stop us ..., tenacious , we still dare, we still dream ..., you're wanting me... I'm wanting you..., filled with a  whole lotta love ...
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i'd fly

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I love but simply, I don't know if today's love is the same as yesterday, but I can swear, — (without attention to details) that makes me feel as if I'd fly ⋯ I love and I don't know, — why the day of yesterday behaved enormously bizarre and didn't talk about what aptitude it has, when inside me, conceptual, today looks like the old day's one ⋯ I love but simply, I don't know if today's texture will be equivalent to yesterday's, but I'm expecting everyone to handle with time's translation of the adored one's ⋯ and I don't know again, but all of me transpires the colors and enthusiasm,  bearing the diverse passions' silhouettes today... like yesterday... to love... because ⋯ you love I love, surprisingly by nature you don't know how heightened love will push you up to fly
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with the ink of happy... single in the dreams using the alphabet of stars, in your calendar, like a party drug, I am... a mysterious moon written and portrayed in any day's caprice tactically as you sing in my crepuscular zone indifferent what season could be felt in you
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sweet escape

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some tagged me, — poetess... [shhh...] [like you, i smiled too] [trenchantly arrogant] [didn't correct 'em], i let their faux pas beliefs slip lento to my fingers, choosing to pen 'em with the words of my soul's language, having as proofreader the whispers of my emotions texts got molded in tints of my eyes' dialect, rhyming with a questioning laugh, deeply and artfully aimed ​by my spectral thoughts with crystalline sounds like some infant's sin my DNA, like the graphene, defined to me how to love... [to love you...] [to love stuff…], [which must be done as much as is necessary, gradually and sufficiently to not get injured] … some tagged me, — poetess... [shhh...], they felt my sweet escape at the rococo degree
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