touch too much

by
Too much, — there... —
too little, you...

A day you are to me, — yes,
another day you are to me, — no

All seems for no reason
to be... —  to need to... —

Too simple, — for another,
too complicated, — for one...

Kisses expose the spaces
gathered daily between us

Too much, — today,
too little, tomorrow [far from me]

Almost and much too soon
you suffer for longing me...

A touch too much seems nothing
or too-too... from time to time...

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boom-boom

by
into love's apotheosis , I am your tales' realm ‧ into eon's boom-boom , I'm your subconscious ‧ with your inscape soul , you're looking for me ‧ to live you, to tame you, to feed you, to free you ‧ intensely… to love me, you, happier to wake up
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Shangri-La

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It's a Shangri-La inside me… Songs played on the radio are my coffee companions . The sun's percussion tools are flavoring the ambiance , while the sky recites my lines. The sea , moved by my words, purifies today's air as deeply as it has done lately, and ever. Ecstasy found me meditating , with my gaze's navel tilted to passion's navel of a loved one. Smelling of milky chocolate , salty caramel , and pistachio , reveals who's thinking of me.
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as sweet as a sin...

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I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, when you hold the fasting of me demurely in your soul and mind loving me till God and looking humbled for the light to find a smell of the saint of myrrh. I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, then, when you're waiting for dispensation, that dispensation for love without knowing if it'll come this sweetness of godly thought with the smell of books and innocence. I'm as sweet as a sin, and you… you gotta be a chocolate Jesus looking in the sinner inside you knowing that it is not a miraculous icon or healing source that could heals you of me... me............................as sweet as a sin…
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human

by
Take a knife. Make sure that's well-sharpened. Cut my soul in two and wait quietly to see by yourself what it's filled with. In the beginning, you will observe the sea with the cloudy waves of melancholy . And you will see the sun. A scorching sun . Then, you're going to feel a comforting marine breeze . (it likes to walk tenderly through my soul) Cut a little bit more to see how many waves of laughter jump out, but be careful to not spill 'em. (they're therapy for my various disappointments) Not to forget. You will see some failures . Ignore them. Someday I'll fix them. Cut a bit deeper and you'll find dreams which I still have, and also desires and fantasies… (I've to mention I have a special affinity with 'em) After that, I'd like you to look carefully at the top. Right there is happiness . Do you recognize it? I'm Human. I'm a lot of things each day of the week. I have about everything in this soul of mine, but I'm not afraid of t...
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dance with me

by
One fine day, we're gonna meet on the 13th line, page 31, chapter — the love's philosophy. Me, (as author), with us in a dispute, I pictured about who's missed each other more. To interact with the topic, get the melodic book and let its emotion run along in your mind. I bet you'll be impressed by all the hugs and kisses that could heal your longing's pain. I could even risk… saying you'll be captured in birds' trill, sniffing, budding flowers' scent. A magic cosmos will be shown to you enough to laugh, to cry, to spy toward the new me I am. Its buoyant spirit will feed you, will ravish you, will reveal why you wish to dance with me. Nanosized, you'll live me in a lot of biographies. Out of one of 'em, I was sent into it to love you.
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the blue

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there, where you're frenglishly afraid to get in, there is hidden the treasure you sought… ‧ it'll not try coming home to you, but it'll linger somewhere in the blue wing of the moon ‧ it'll stalk you to see if you give your soul to those who promised you the magic of paradise , instead of the one who'll follow you even in hell ‧ so be vigilant , — this, it isn't my confession but your frisson , plotted by one whose hell was made in heaven
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je t'accuse

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je t’accuse ⋯⋯⋯⋯ je t’accuse for stealing my judgment ▫ je t’accuse for the infinite hours of dreaming ▫ je t’accuse for how you kiss me ▫ je t’accuse for the way you touch me ▫ je t’accuse for how you make me laugh ▫ je t’accuse for not letting me forget I’m a woman ▫ je t’accuse for the way you feed my spirit ▫ je t’accuse for the thousands of whispers of love ▫ je t’accuse for how your blood simmers in my blood ▫ je t’accuse for you’ve not changed anything at me ▫ je t’accuse for you love me as I am ▫ je t’accuse for the way you’re listening to me ▫ je t’accuse for you never get bored with me ▫ je t’accuse for the way you make me long for you ▫ je t’accuse for how your eyes watch me stealthily ▫ je t’accuse for the way you wait for me ▫ je t’accuse for all my orgasms ▫ je t’accuse for how you’re savoring my scent ▫ je t’accuse with my lips, with my eyes, with my smiles ▫ je t’accuse with my fears, with my sins ▫ je t’accuse with all of my being ▫ je t’accuse ⋯⋯⋯⋯ je t’accuse for how...
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yum

by
in the spatial pub of a dream, your time reserved the table, — music; the crystalline gestures of us are orchestrating the main menu; we taste a smile, but dessert winks at us, pushing the moment into a yum ambiance; we're admired by a hug and a kiss which do pirouettes on poetry's floor (...in the spatial pub of a dream)
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nasty

by
from the immensity of sins committed in the witching hour, i will call you to lead you into the abyss of my immortality; there, i'll revive you from verses as my muse which you are from the thoughts of any poem penned, only you'll know my cruel curse that empathizes with all your inside burning, enough to bloom in you the lure of my seductive perfume from any sheer feeling, if any moment will get you bored, i will feel you flowing in me, and i'll take care to inject you with my nasty blood, till reborn in you, my emotions' spark
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clair de lune

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« Votre âme est un paysage choisi que vont charmants masques et bergamasques jouant du luth et dansant et quasi tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques. Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur, l’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune, ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune, au calme, clair de lune, triste et beau, qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau, les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres. »  
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