Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

You are the time. That time out of a past-tense. That time from a contemporary action…. That time out of the future. An unknown time. You are that kind of time hidden between the seconds made from hours and words for showing love at and after sharp…. You are the time…. But you're a dream…. Basically, in such a way, I met you…. At one midnight, shaking suavely, making me be irresistible in front of your bow and arrow, sent over-time, into a time, and out of time, in this place of the very here, where the clocks were forgotten to be spun, but having still, an independent functionality… all the way….

Are you sleeping? Have you walked through my dreams taking care for enveloping them with love? Did you find me hid in your soul contoured in a steam of the feelings, induced for me and the idea of love? Have you been helped by a song... ...or a mantra, to see me when you sleep? I know that I could be in your sleepy eyes anything you want, but most, I would like to be the best beautiful declaration of love. Keep me just so... (always......💕)

hey, — you… — the sovereign of my poetry, ⋯ open your voicemail, for heaven’s sake; you have several missed messages, — (some are mine…); did you forget you promised me you’ll teach me the art of love…‽ ⋯⋯⋯ (at a given moment, in a staccato manner, — the inbox got a moral asset); ⋯⋯⋯ Have you ever longed for a certain person who hadn’t had to be, but you thought how it could have been the two of you, together and not what wasn’t and never will be‽ ⋯ Have you ever thought it is out of date, to try, to wish and to know what could’ve been like‽ ⋯ Have you had the privilege of being shunned by someone who’s now amalgamated by a song without knowing if its echo will turn up to bite your ears’ ears, which fail of being apt to hear…‽ ⋯⋯⋯ I miss you. I miss you like a forgotten verse, uttered sublimely on what should have been, as if you’re a poet who hankers to get in me to write (without deducing) I might want you. ⋯ I miss you from some hypothetical time zone of a nameless future, (just as ...

Aujourd'hui j'suis entré souriant  seul dans le labyrinthe et avec calme, j'ai suivi mon cœur sur la route qui mène à ton jardin. Et les murmures volent dans l'air, et le jour ça fasse nuit… Un monde sans frontières se préparent pour le carnaval… (De tous ceux qui sont présents, uniquement les fous aiment, juste eux, seulement eux trouvent une porte dans le temps. Et de ceux qui ont traversé, seuls les fous eux savaient sur la sortie cachée du labyrinthe.)[r] Aujourd'hui j'suis entré encore dans ton jardin et je t'ai trouvé dans les griffes du désir vif entouré de lys et de statues, avec tes yeux concentrés. Tout le monde te regarde docile mais ça s'en va quand tu parles à eux et quand tu rappelles à eux que... (De tous ceux qui sont présents, uniquement les fous aiment, juste eux, seulement eux trouvent une porte dans le temps. Et de ceux qui ont traversé, seuls les fous eux savaient sur la sortie cachée du labyrinthe.)[r] 𓇼 translation‧‧‧ ©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p...

Hé... Je sais que tu me vois. Je ressens que tu me caresses avec tes yeux. Tu m'effaces et me redessines... Et plus, je sais déjà... Je sais que tu m'entends. L'écho de ton coeur me parle quand tu ne veux pas répondre... Bienvenue! C'est la dernière fois que nous-mêmes rencontrons. Bienvenue, ami imaginaire! Bienvenue! C'est pour le dernier... fois. Bienvenue! Prochainement, je me réveillerai... suis-je exagère?! d◑◡◐b Nous vivons dans un rêve puisque les yeux du monde se sont fermés; C'est juste un rêve, ami imaginaire; Nous vivons dans un rêve puisque les yeux du monde se sont fermés; C'est juste un rêve! Comment est-ce que tu sais que tu n'es pas réel? Ami imaginaire,  bienvenue! C'est pour le dernier... fois; Bienvenue! Prochainement, je me réveillerai... ‣‣‣‣ translation‧‧‧ ©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p'tit je ne sais quoi ‧ chic… à ma façon  

i appeared in front of you naked as my gaze's color; (how blue can you get...) i left you to lure my mind with hope and joy of days; each day became (today) created mentally, (salut...), it metamorphosed itself into topic ᵀᴼDʳᵉᵃᵐAᵇᵒᵘᵗYᵒᵘ‧‧‧ sunrises were lune-poems, noons were flash fiction, nights, a story in six-words masterminded by music from season to season love played its game well (nor friends), (nor lovers), as Mystique, as Mysterio, we acted... as characters we've frenglishly... deeply, we paid in smiley coins and we ended as we started... two of us, blue on black, playing “truth is like poetry even if most folks hate it”

maybe because of you, I know to read in the clouds, and maybe because of me, you know the metropolis of my soul maybe because of you, I know to draw a lovely thought, and maybe because of me, you found a reason to return to the place of the city, — Me maybe because of you, I know to explain your heart’s pulse, and maybe because of me, you have encouraged yourself to study the nervous system of my emotions maybe, I and you made a vow, or maybe, I and you got frenglishly up, so for what the hell do we fear anymore if the past has passed away so long ago

mathematical definable, 0.9(9) seems to be the decimal number which describes our love and which looks close enough if we're as one answering to our feelings won at climax hour from my soul and yours without anticipation apropos, what time's in you 'cause inside me shows exactly hour, let-me-love-you-baby

monologue, — I am to you only a stranger, not in a mood to offer you varied pleasures, not drop by drop to oxygenate your blood with the air of a forest that I dunno where it's, not to incite your feelings to verbalize words uncontaminated with suspires and longs or, like seagulls, flying not to a celestial sphere but into a mission only by them known… I'm not because I am to you only a stranger

would you, could you be mine, an incognito rendezvous, the one of the most beautiful and anonymously kind just to kill this fatigued ennui… promise I'll be a whisper if you'll be a gleam of fantasy, as if you've been wished me to say, — wish you would

we ceded to temptation and got caught in our dreams 𓇼 our dreams are velvety and made of stars 𓇼 stars bearing subtly our names 𓇼 names engraved with the colors of some future 𓇼 future perfumed jovially with the cosmic shape of love 𓇼 love orchestrated charming by you and me 𓇼 you and me, together wrapped in a fantasy realm 𓇼 once and for all, since then, till the world's end

when our shadows kissed each other, and our smells have leaned on our lips, and our core had so much of too many tricks to hold in music's balanced style with its sublime relish as we transpired, was maybe an alibi in trying to discern how it could be if it'll be when it'll be a dream's desire which doesn't give you /doesn't give me one moment of peace until its deep essence will be fulfilled, as we longed and begged for (all along)

I'm sipping from the moon, from the sin and from diaphanous hours, plunged in me in you in us to carry a bit of happiness. I'm sniffing from the nights, from whimsy stars enough to bring 'em in your soul from my soul filled with stories ripped from sunrise. Consider me guilty. Blame me for I'm writing these epistles. But my longing for you is analgesic. It's pure amphetamine... Is something translucent that turns darkness, teaching me to crawl in, among, and towards a light that lets you dream inside me... Is my climax syllabled by you, the chosen, — the one trained in the couleur menthe à l'eau, the one which my mind and soul listen to...

you're not a prophet in my prophecy but rather the ammo of my feelings... an eye-catching of something nutritive to liberate my fantasy generated when your love explodes inside me... enough to devour with mad lust your desire of me, described, qualified and disciplined in colors and sounds

with you, I feel like I'm drowning even if our love is using the omertà's code, even if thrills and rhythms of our hearts in our beauty is in perfect accord, even if we breathe exactly as we exist, from dawn till when the night is over, even if the longings slide in our meridian with tender kisses, (delish-succulent), as if, — 'even if' — is a vector that asks the other, if our irrefutable passion is increased

if may I not or if may I have a talk with you at a future date, it's too-too difficult to know the universe isn't authorized to make noise about our true feelings of this very present the dialect of memories can't be translated at the absolute value of our diurnal opinion as long I'm too sleepy to dream comparative, for inside me, it's love, while outside, it's you