better with butter

by Claudia ✓
unhurriedly, a murmur flatters my eardrum,
stirring up inside me an insane appetite
[of him]

[and he knows…] [and he doesn't stop…]

he persists to tender my nerves delicately
cooking 'em better with butter, fancied well

[expertly…]

[to me…]
✶
[head up], [I talked enough]; [what about you?]
[truth] or [run run run], [god only knows where]
✶
[just the same, you'll get back into my arms...]


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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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it's been said

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check my phone

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thrilling all-around

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