vacation from love

by
I'll go on a forced vacation from love
in a place, somewhere, at the end of an era.

If you'll try to recreate me in the shape
of your fiction, modeling me in deaf sentences
and old letters, used by gods and goddesses,
I'm going to feel it.

After all, I paid a price in the coins of dreams
for my innocent love, you sacrificed.

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I embodied you in another creature reincarnated not from a fairy spirit but gifted to direct you at a stage of a futuristic idea felt in a sloe gin able like a vermin to eat your pain, a pain found in any soul, at a time...
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Under the influence of the moon's breeze, music witchery is touching me and metamorphose me in the whispers of stars, properly orchestrated by your wildish thoughts, making me look like a tableaux vivant out of your preferred color palette in the abstract, as if we're meant to be metaphysical as one. Under the influence of the moon's breeze, your incantations appears organized, whenever, wherever, and in any way ever, inciting me to add additional loves' names to your love for me. Under the influence of the moon's breeze and of its charisma, I invoked dream's power to lure you inside my unpredictability to mention your name, – ( give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain ).
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… outmoded are those that wanted you and me not to get together; outraged , the time wanted to be in trend too and paralyzed the seconds, both of us to roam like two crazy between each other's thoughts; but the moon intervened and with gold threads it glazed our souls; the sea, dancing in circles through you and me, it dressed us with her breeze in a mating ritual of senses , to dispel away everything we felt as a homework of culpability; even if we've got puzzled …, nothing and nobody could stop us ..., tenacious , we still dare, we still dream ..., you're wanting me... I'm wanting you..., filled with a  whole lotta love ...
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On a banal day, everyone you'll meet will tell you, relax, it'll pass away. But nobody will say how and when. Me, like everybody, I'm gonna tell you, — I've been there. I was confronted with a situation similar to yours... [almost...]. Didn't you feel first an indescribable pain that ran through your veins and blood, and all your being, working like a symbiotic, trying to transform you into something else, enough to be able to face fighting with your fury, with your weakness, with every fear that you've been thought that's well hidden? [surely, you felt it... surely, you've been transfigured...] If somebody will tell you that understands you, believe not. It's far to be similar to something lived by others. You have to resist not to lose your mind. Hold on till will appear that bright day to wake you up. Once awakened, you will observe you have the same look outside, but inside you'll be different. You'll be much stronger. You'll have a n...
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i'd fly

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with the ink of happy... single in the dreams using the alphabet of stars, in your calendar, like a party drug, I am... a mysterious moon written and portrayed in any day's caprice tactically as you sing in my crepuscular zone indifferent what season could be felt in you
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sweet escape

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some tagged me, — poetess... [shhh...] [like you, i smiled too] [trenchantly arrogant] [didn't correct 'em], i let their faux pas beliefs slip lento to my fingers, choosing to pen 'em with the words of my soul's language, having as proofreader the whispers of my emotions texts got molded in tints of my eyes' dialect, rhyming with a questioning laugh, deeply and artfully aimed ​by my spectral thoughts with crystalline sounds like some infant's sin my DNA, like the graphene, defined to me how to love... [to love you...] [to love stuff…], [which must be done as much as is necessary, gradually and sufficiently to not get injured] … some tagged me, — poetess... [shhh...], they felt my sweet escape at the rococo degree
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