Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

hé, une tasse d'amour, s'il te plait, mais pas de sucre, pas de crème pas de jalousie, pas de reproches, pas de perfidie, pas de méli-mélo, pas du je t'aime (moi non plus), —  ah bah d'accord, — daddy cool…؟

You should know by now, when thousands of thoughts are floating in my mind, there's not any occult thought. So, please, leave any ammunition at the entry of my agnostic soul. I already metamorphosed you into that entity called, — friend celebrating you each day. Also, I spoiled you with a pseudonym full of romance wrapped in the color, which you know I like it much too much. Therefore no matter where you are absent, you're present in me, for you let coming down slow, a blueprint all night long, like each day for me... an out-of-nowhere girl...

he, in an atypical way, observed her hair hugged by the sun, then her skin stained by the stars, — stars so delicately sanctified in scent's spell of the queen-of-the-night 𓇼 soon after, his eyes got set on her, — his mind got fluidized, intercepting gently, the fairy essences of her body, so ripened, so greedy, so overflowing as him to get lost in her mirage 𓇼 in the meantime, — the stormy whispers of her soul have exteriorized, warning and pushing him to see her that she never sinned but in her dream, a dream of a banned love, — [now set aside]

Did you wake up before me to watch my nude winding through the bed's linen and playing by itself with soft lights and shadows, gallantly offered by a semi-open window? Would you like to see me opening myself in front of you, exactly like a flower dreaming of a summer rain while you, with your lips, make, with an extreme pleasure circles of petals on my skin for offering to me, frissons? Are you the bumblebee that's using its needle to get in my open corolla, bringing butterflies to my stomach to make my body take the shape of a harp perfectly harmonized with the creak of the bedstead? Could all these be just an aroma of some memories when each murmur of mine got lifted by your spirit to be scented and softened with many whispers of love for fulfilling our photosynthesis? Explain to me. Even if seems bizarre, I don't know much about Love. _________________________________ believe  me,  I love you times infinity , I could be anything ,  my Love , an  innocent touch fo...

The mouths were created to can pronounce, through the touching of lips, the words. And yet, the most powerful word it's the non-word  combined with lips of another mouth, asking... softly let me kiss your lips

today's theory indicated love has been defined as an integral extracted out of exactly moment when I saw you for first taken from the infinite on the function, (I), — argued as being the ratio of any variation due to my body's methodology and soul's constancy, You, growing in my mind, walking through my dreams, without any option, without perceiving the nasty of me needing you, [not as spouses] but as the maneuvers' friends.

a way with words, it's a happening what didn't happen, but somehow happens deep thru our mind, you to be, me to see, me to be, you to see, what's happening when nothing's happen as we thought sure will be happened

no matter what we preserve to do, we're guilty of everything, even if for the most part, our mind tries to unleash constructive emotions 🎥YouTube  — mind

❝ Every day you play with the light of the universe. Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water, You are more than this white head that I hold tightly as a bunch of flowers, every day, between my hands. You are like nobody, since I love you. Let me spread you out among yellow garlands. Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh, let me remember you as you were before you existed. Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window. The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish. Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them. The rain takes off her clothes. The birds go by, fleeing. The wind.  The wind. I alone can contend against the power of men. The storm whirls dark leaves and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky. You are here.  Oh, you do not run away. You will answer me to the last cry. Curl around me as though you were frightened. Even so, a strange shad...

my alluring beauty looks like a bloom; even the street digests me, dumbfounded; listening and watching me, perplexed, the air around me drives in an abstract, making you look at me like an alien; but with all that, you approached me, tantalized, by my intangibility, and let your sentiments manifest intensely, asking me, — (like a bullet in the gun), pardon me, but is it wrong if I want to…

perfect night, inundated with quintessential dreams... — shapes your silhouette 𓇼 love doesn't make mistakes; knows to amplify your essence, deep enough to keep you dry

If my heartbeats were a melody, probably nobody would listen to it on any radio, for nobody is anointed enough to record an unprofitable sacred sound in a studio... If my heartbeats were a melody, it's nothing to worry about because even the song «will you love me tomorrow» has been forbidden for a long time ago till became a hit. [some didn't understand that love can't be censored or kept in the shadows...] If my heartbeats were a melody, probably, you should download 'em from a dubious site, so well sheltered by some with square heads. If my heartbeats were a melody, no one would know how to obey in front of it.

sur toi, te... tant de sur toi, te... mon appétit, par-dessus tout, énormément, en murmurant,— tant de sur toi, te... sans être révélé, caché, de quelque part et intense,— abondamment tant de sur toi, te... comme marque-page entre Vénus et Mars, sans gravité avec gros G et péché, chaque nuit, formidablement toujours  beaucoup, — tous les jours,   tant de sur toi, te... illicitement l'ombre absurde moonshine  exceptionnelle tant de sur toi, te...

where have you been, cos I looked for you, it seemed you've staged your fictionality, as if you've been there and yet absently exactly like a clumsy god preachin' blues

the look of love got you in my beauty, found and displayed in the jungle of your fugitive dreams, all tangled up and duly possessed by incantations with details created in an auto-da-fé, like a backbone shaker who adores to invade my DNA, to spin through me till compose my happiness, mastered in all what's written but not described, having an identity but not exposed... while holy glance looks so awesome in the window of a sensible address

I know you, You, the wildly one... — I heard your mysterious call... — The chirping of the firebird from your heart opened the shell of my dreams paying big attention to what your kisses say for when I go to sleep to dream about you

❝ In my sky, at twilight, you are like a cloud and your form and color are the way I love them. You are mine, mine woman with sweet lips and in your life, my infinite dreams live.       The lamp of my soul dies in your feet, the sour wine is sweeter on your lips, oh, reaper of my evening song, how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!       You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's wind and the wind hauls on my widowed voice. Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.       You are taken in the net of my music, my love, and my nets of music are wide as the sky. My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning. In your eyes of mourning, the land of dreams begins.❞

❝ My tactic is looking at you, learning how you are, loving you as you are.       My tactic is talking to you and listening to you to build with words an indestructible bridge.       My tactic is remaining in your memories, I don't know, how, nor with which pretext, but remaining with you.       My tactic is being frank, and knowing that you are frank, and not selling each other, simulations; So that between us there is no curtain nor abyss.       My strategy is, however, deeper and easier.       My strategy is that one of these days, I don't know, how, nor with which pretext, you, finally need me.❞ 

to your merry mind from sensitive me a... smoothly salute for ennobling you with fancy quatrain your body to dance and to caress you within joy's frisson faultless notes hum, g'morning, g'night, please stay, – collect each blue attitude for you to be loved forever accepted without being taxed just happily willed

with my hand, cuddling your hand, with my body stuck to your body, with my eyes gazing in your eyes, as if the hands only make sense on the skin of the other one, as if the lips have unique taste kissing their twin lips, as if the eyes can only find a sense, in the eyes of the other as if interlude à la désirade isn't you… isn't me… but just an aroma

My thoughts got me rambling toward a captivating shore, where nature's unleashed beauty, aroused even before dawn itself to get up to spread up its barefoot smile toward the sunset, shod with warm and tender moaning, patronized by my thirst and your thirst, for life. Agitated through a romantic ambiance, the thoughts began to waltz with some soft murmurs, choreographed in black and white by kisses' pulse, more or less, savages… but so fixed to oxygenate days of yesterday, today, and always.