Can you talk without having the thought of the one which
supposed to listen to you passionately and conclusively?
Doesn't feel as if your voice puts in difficulty, the brain?
And how to read the magic of the stars, when, to do this,
it's a must to gaze into the eyes of the one who's loved?

I found myself wondering, while so tastily, I imagine the lips
of an enigmatic, who's watching to all that wants to hear, and
which, without getting pressed, feels the words of any song.

That's the one who reads me, wanting to identify on which side
of the syllables, I sleep. What's the word that has to breathe it.
That's the one dulcifying itself with poetic thrills, minded at a pub
somewhere, known as the blue café in a YaYaYa realm. A realm,
comparable with milky-way, [the one I wish I know what it's like].
un p’tit je ne sais quoi ©
PoeticEssences ᵏᴼᵏᴼ
Chris Rea │ RyX │ Jeff Tweedy

bunch of emotions organized in words

what's sealed there, it's felt here deeply