language of Love

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— how would you prefer it to be,
(younger... older‧‧‧), (you asked)
— (‧‧‧distinguished...), (i replied),
its ruby of the mature raspberry
must vibrate on my lips
in the language of Love... —
must be… in—ti—ma—te—ly…
must be acting in a chronicle which
rouses those kinds of emotions...
to take you to take me far, far away,
there… from where it comes...
wrapped in the veil of a kiss...
if you could feel what I'm thinking


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yAyAyA

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to balance the imbalance of some days, verify your soul volume,— one portrayed and discreetly arranged by your heartbeat with the temperature of your blood and mad pressure of some detouring stories systematized by the texture of your mind to rise the sound speeds of my whispers inapt of uttering, I love you I miss you... to balance the imbalance of some days, ain't nothin' wrong to check once more the timbre and vibration of my feelings
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bizarre... i don't know what it is… but i love it

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you next to me

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one million stardust

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me you

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the perception, me, you, the disappearing action yet my disappearing action isn't your perception, but a speck of miraculous dust out of the universe called love, a hereditary molecule from my DNA combined with the essences of all good addictions in encoded information just to tingle your spine
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