I feel as if you're infiltrated in my veins as if you're walking like a master through my senses... Go ahead and walk. It's your own right. I belong to you, Love. I'm just saying what I have to… — Say
maybe I'm not the one you think I am, — [maybe…] ‧ maybe I'm not the one I'd wish, or I should be, — [maybe…] ‧ but as I've been born without my consent, maybe too soon... …or maybe too late... I accepted myself with everything I am… [for sure…]
…take illusions seriously, Mon Cheri; somehow, you ideated me so, [but see], in what part of me, you forged your mind, it's one of your memory from a future with which I'm living at this moment and for which it is not necessary to be judged... or justifying myself...
ugh, you, – my incubus lover, i'm surrounded by ugly souls ⋆ through their veins flows pus, unfurling up a mephitic smell ⋆ their gazes suppurate dislike while their smiles are putrid ⋆ thank god, my flower garden reveals perfume and colors ⋆ and birds disperse their music, and your imps chase 'em away … ugh, you, the word of my word, sing to me... sing to my desires ⋆ embrace, embrace my dreams, dreams, credible and incredible ⋆ travel, travel in all my missives chronicled to you by my future ⋆ there, joviality bears my name, i'm the one who fulfills wishes ⋆ there, the light of each shadow stimulates the shadow of light … ugh, you, – my incubus lover, word of my word, – i call you
…right as heaven sends you, at your turns, you love to send the rain of kisses on my lips, on my cheeks, on my eyelids ‧ (well, i got to tell you), — the rain, madly fixed by big and warm drops, wrapped me tightly in its scintillating movements ‧ deviating my thoughts' colors, it captured my soul with its beads and my mouth with muffled sighs, to feel I am… your sweet lady
guide your mouth to my left ear, — kiss the murmurs that it hears at classy hours of the inked dreams ‧ mildly, put your lips on my thrill, you, full delight in a psychotic ripple savoring a demiurgic bohemian call ‧ take a frenetic moment of magic that's slowly drowning in my ecstasy, lushly poetized in a renewed burst
The news comes from nowhere with the courtesy to be gripped not just informed about a dream A dream that loves to haunt me every night and any single day A dream where if you're caught, you're getting lost in it forever A dream that'll try to make you happier than happy at any cost This is You... A dream of mine... burning... burning beautiful bad... A dream I never had so seductive
about the seven seasons are in you and each of them is filled with feelings and their thrills ‧ thereby, — in spring, you're a zephyr… (first glance, first kiss, first ecstasy) ‧ the summer is the burning love of yours ‧ when autumn comes the bedding gets a fix ‧ it's winter when you're freezing me with your gaze ‧ amnesia appears to be from you..., the coldest season felt ‧ and yet, more intimate and more involved, it is the season when we meet in dainty fancy of a poetry, — how does it feel... (…as you can see, — you're unpredictability)
same room, same couch, same table, same cup, same teaspoon, same tea, mixed with honey, [a dainty variety] the ritual seems a similar peculiarity, with the languor in a safety escapism for nobody to bother your gladdening […] isn't it charming to know there is one in this world who listens to same track which has the cadence of your pulse calibrated to your feel, concomitantly …¿? but why I'd wish I knew you're in it too …¿?
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