from head to toe

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Tα΅’DʳᡉᡃᡐAα΅‡α΅’α΅˜α΅—Yα΅’α΅˜‧‧‧ I put on me something explosively 
opting to get attired with you… from head to toe…

poetic audience

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solitaire

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the loyalty of an impeccable, known " l'grand solitaire ", it is a hobbyist of dreams that's revising its priorities, adopting passionately and yet furtively, a love's course ‧ it knows that fate will not be blamed for sloppy games of the ignorant folks who fail to adjudge that a schism it is just another way to spend time with the lovely one ‧ after all, a dream has dreams to remember… by and by
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adrenaline

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every morning, before sniffing out the day's whispers, I'm taking first, my adrenaline's dose, [as usually] ‧ the sun, the chirping of the tiny sparrows, the breeze of the sea, try impressing my windowpane ‧ each of them takes care of any part of me, improving magically, my coiffure, my eyes, my mood ‧ the hugs, the kisses, the innocent giggles, are advanced by love's light that loves bathing in me...
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vortex

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you, in any of my thoughts, kill the silence with the jaw of the fantasy; the light of your vocalizes fills the darkness making saints and devils tremble; hidden behind a mask, everyone omits how fragile you are, [hero/antihero at once]; like an insane wildish force of sea's vortex is your character acting in the love's name; and is, and is not revenge, and is, and is not  justice, but just your elixir, quelling a gaffe;
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somewhere

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an explicit saline councilor in the deepness of my eyes, sings prominently your song its treasured susurrations bent to my heart's pond, somewhere in the right ventricle a beauty orchestrated by lungs like a Scottish bagpipe sound made to oxygenate all senses
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body blues...

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an unstoppable artistically silhouette [it's mine, not yours] a frisson into body blues concealed [that's yours, not mine] dream-makers are drawing the mood [eagerness has charm] any thought into my dreamt dreams [prove it to be what I need now] loving you, loving me is not fantasy, [even if all about it looks so alike]
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emotion

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my emotion got been written at the morning coffee with the ink of dream that dreams me… the influence of mine with yours spun up to the sky for blooming in a color's custody full of desires… our lust made us confess again, how wildly about we're to each other… then… everything around us smiled
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deep blue

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lend me your freshness, — i asked for it to spring's season, and it doubled my scent ‧ lend me your joyfulness, — i asked for it to summer's season, and it doubled my adventure ‧ lend me your opulence, — i asked for it to autumn's season, and it doubled my energy ‧ lend me your calmness, — i asked for it to winter's season, and it doubled my dreams ‧ lend me your puissance, — i asked for it to all seasons, and they doubled their gifts to me… …freeing my deep blue skill, adequate to make you feel real, — and yet, never enough, you lure me on and on and on
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where I wait

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I know your name… It dawns every  morning in my thoughts… but I do not say it aloud, too terrified that the poetry you are with its fragile cat's paw, it'll fall apart somewhere, not where I wait ‧ I know your name… I whisper it daily, enough to not destabilize the chemistry of us… but also, — me to not be somehow incriminated for my mind bears you deeper than the eye can see ‧ I know your name… I know y'know I know a bit extra than some
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