angel eyes...

by
when you don't want to talk to anyone,
I am the silence hidden in a magic sound
you're not looking for it, but somehow
you listen to it with angel eyes, confident
cos I will always find a way to get to you


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Unblemished, I let my smile roving on the alley of the metaphors. Metaphors which, once, peopled one's shadow full of sensations. Sensations tamed and boosted with an implausible profile pic. Pic with the parts of its aspects lost in nothingness or joyfulness. Joyfulness with moving feelings, and thoughts wondering… why's‽ Why is late yet early, and why is far yet closely, on poets' boulevard. Boulevard accompanied by craves, gesticulating longingly, the passion. Passion of the nomad me and others, fermenting loves on metaphors' alley. Alley with paths to light and dreams, like a switch at the call of the love.  Love moaning,  — (let only music cry), (there is no medicine like the blues).
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in my head is the moaning of a night, — (a hypnotizing night), named after you, you, the one who loves to listen to a song, housed in the bedding of a hard drive ⋯ sweetly, breathing my worldly fullness, an inventive kiss, from that exact time, has migrated in this status quo, reviving so a dream, to erect your untamed nature ⋯ a secret flows from an annex of the heart, examining and tingling my lips, tactfully, while your smile, [moisturizing my breasts], moans like night, [love is sweet] with you
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