flashback

by
pleasant emotions
flood spontaneously
like a dandelion in the spring
hungered of lips on soft lips,
so good... — so-so, again
as much real as the unreal
composing a mood, painted,
sung, dreamt, and spoken
in contagious gods' language
and the spirit of goddesses
to flourish inside you
an afternoon experiment;
‧‧‧
then another, and another, and
I, clearly, have chosen to be
a flashback, — you addicted


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to balance the imbalance of some days, verify your soul volume,— one portrayed and discreetly arranged by your heartbeat with the temperature of your blood and mad pressure of some detouring stories systematized by the texture of your mind to rise the sound speeds of my whispers inapt of uttering, I love you I miss you... to balance the imbalance of some days, ain't nothin' wrong to check once more the timbre and vibration of my feelings
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till I finalize my hello, you're at home, while some didn't leave yet like an empirical kind, wind down, and look, to convince yourself in the shelter of the art you can phrase dΓ©gagΓ©, [I long to feel your love]
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running with the wolves of an exquisite vocabulary, knight of the pen, guided by the religion of music, it springs up somewhere in a spectacular ceremony there, dreams don't frown, because love's structure is painted obsessively about you, about me... both in a white silence splendor, dripping confidently... lust
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I'll never stop to release you, on the contrary, I will be squeezing you cruelly with my mind inside my being as nobody there to save you. You'll feel me as if you'd be a con, so deeply captivated & neglected by my bohemian love.
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