may I have a talk with you

by
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

poetic audience

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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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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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come... — catch out my poetry's nipples with the island lips of yours ‧ suck out of it... the rain of my emotions announced in the forecast of love ‧ any dose will transfer in you the energy from the nest of my stars ‧ the molecular activity of my atmosphere is gonna erect your hemisphere ‧ our happiness from the present of now will immortalize any picture falling down  ‧ the vapors of our passion will sign with pseudo name, — [end of the world]
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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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