fever... [high enough]

by Claudia ✓
he doesn't criticize me, —
he improves the moment by kissing my dreams

he doesn't try to change me, —
he hums, amused, by the music dialect of my soul

he doesn't interrogate me, —
he knows to take the answers out of my poetries

he appreciates me as i am, —
he's a ray of the sun kissing my cheeks... my lips...

he's happy murmuring my name
letting himself hugged & hypnotized by my stars' net

he never rushes me, 
he figured out how's the fever of me... [high enough]

he loves getting wrapped in attires of my texts, —
he's an adorable one, roving through my realm's fire


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a little bit

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stop; don’t try to divine anymore some answers generated into a day... (of whatever's tomorrow) if the thoughts slipped out of the brain box but got treated as if they weren't well-packed 𓇼 murmured, out of the blue, the wind's whisper, trying to temper me, melodic… (just a little bit) with the drastic formula of a sensitive topic about the one who has a chiaroscuro intellect 𓇼 intermediary, music flows, inviting rain to laugh (without modesty), in my boundlessness, which owns numerical superiority in any adventure of the truth, while it dances with else's delusions...
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fidelity of an impeccable, known "l'grand solitaire" is a hobbyist of dreams which revised its priorities selecting passionately and furtively a love's course there, fate will never be blamed for hesitant's game of ignorant folks who fail to grasp that a disunion is just another way to connect with lovely someone ✶ when a dream got dreams to remember [eventually]
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it's been said

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check my phone

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made for you

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thrilling all-around

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language of Love

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