ocean...

by
by feeling in need of me, or
showing yourself to me, —
it's not forbidden
but just interpreted to be
a sign of weakness
for your favorite discipline, —
indifference,
which displeased,
accuses you, while
the blue attitude of the ocean
confirms, —
I could swear you already heard it
syllabicating pianissimo, —
I'm not that kind
of the sweetest perfection
to whom someone can insist on

poetic audience

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DooWooDooWoo

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too late to love you

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your poem... — your poem is a sinless mirror sculpting me all right in an ingenious fairy tale your poem waltzes me on the scene of lucidity using its own rationality to renovate my Eden your poem confers me constellations, sheens, and charming mysteries on full moon's corolla your poem is a sea of wine which kisses me with mandolin's voice in your lumiΓ¨re bleue your poem... — your poem, i'm writing it daily with nights' eyes to dream of me during the day
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Take out from my hair and from wherever the guilty sentiments of yours towards me. You know that candlelight can become sun, enough to enlighten the darkest hours. Bring to me the shine of your love and the feelings with all images out of the past. Fairy tales and laughter stirred by blame, incertitude, sleepless nights, passions and an imaginary kiss will heal any obsession. Take out from my hair and from wherever the guilty sentiments of yours towards me. Don’t you remember when I told you that the mystery of the night can be whenever, in the middle of the day or whichever hour? So let’s splash out our love, let's devour it. Let’s be lovers tonight. What do you say?  
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amour

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