studying in a library on a rainy day

by
at times, as a writer, you're screwed 
if your words ramble without climax
paralyzed into a marginal symptom

the main characteristic of your spirit
corresponds to a muse whose tariff is
billed in polyandry or polygamy's art

for you know, y'know so bloody well,
art never reacts to monogamy's coin,
and chic words' silhouette, cultivates

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boom-boom

by
into love's apotheosis, I am your tales' realm into eon's boom-boom I'm your subconscious with your inscape soul, you're looking for me to live you, to create you, to feed you, to free you soothed, [to love me...] happier, [to wake you up]
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deep in the night

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without any hesitation, deep in the night, you nestled in the fountain of my dream ‧ happy there, you whistled and climbed up till the infinity column of my imagination ‧ denying the pranks of shadows, I listen to your smile's crystalline treads, giggling — ‧ (i miss you…), while i'm perversely isolated in a timeless mood carrying longing's vibe
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nobody like me…

by
… bullet skein unfurls camouflaged vows at a random time of the day, mechanically ; mechanically, you smile, thinking of me, — thinking of me with you and without you; the time, enthusiastically, it whistles at you for you made a top choice , but you knew… you knew from the start… (since we met), there's nobody like me … [no–bod–y] 🫦
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je t'accuse

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je t’accuse ⋯⋯⋯⋯ je t’accuse for stealing my judgment ▫ je t’accuse for the infinite hours of dreaming ▫ je t’accuse for how you kiss me ▫ je t’accuse for the way you touch me ▫ je t’accuse for how you make me laugh ▫ je t’accuse for not letting me forget I’m a woman ▫ je t’accuse for the way you feed my spirit ▫ je t’accuse for the thousands of whispers of love ▫ je t’accuse for how your blood simmers in my blood ▫ je t’accuse for you’ve not changed anything at me ▫ je t’accuse for you love me as I am ▫ je t’accuse for the way you’re listening to me ▫ je t’accuse for you never get bored with me ▫ je t’accuse for the way you make me long for you ▫ je t’accuse for how your eyes watch me stealthily ▫ je t’accuse for the way you wait for me ▫ je t’accuse for all my orgasms ▫ je t’accuse for how you’re savoring my scent ▫ je t’accuse with my lips, with my eyes, with my smiles ▫ je t’accuse with my fears, with my sins ▫ je t’accuse with all of my being ▫ je t’accuse ⋯⋯⋯⋯ je t’accuse for how...
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dance with me

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One fine day, we're gonna meet on the 13th line, page 31, chapter — the love's philosophy. Me, (as author), with us in a dispute, I pictured about who's missed each other more. To interact with the topic, get the melodic book and let its emotion run along in your mind. I bet you'll be impressed by all the hugs and kisses that could heal your longing's pain. I could even risk… saying you'll be captured in birds' trill, sniffing, budding flowers' scent. A magic cosmos will be shown to you enough to laugh, to cry, to spy toward the new me I am. Its buoyant spirit will feed you, will ravish you, will reveal why you wish to dance with me. Nanosized, you'll live me in a lot of biographies. Out of one of 'em, I was sent into it to love you.
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Shangri-La

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It's a Shangri-La inside me… Songs played on the radio are my coffee companions . The sun's percussion tools are flavoring the ambiance , while the sky recites my lines. The sea , moved by my words, purifies today's air as deeply as it has done lately, and ever. Ecstasy found me meditating , with my gaze's navel tilted to passion's navel of a loved one. Smelling of milky chocolate , salty caramel , and pistachio , reveals who's thinking of me.
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yum

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in the spatial pub of a dream, your time reserved the table, — music; the crystalline gestures of us are orchestrating the main menu; we taste a smile, but dessert winks at us, pushing the moment into a yum ambiance; we're admired by a hug and a kiss which do pirouettes on poetry's floor (...in the spatial pub of a dream)
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a new dawn

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I don't know when, (I can't remember) when your genteel thought has slid on spiraled arms of my chic dreams 𓇼 Has been around a new dawn's debut kissed by the touch of darkness still? Got no idea. I'm tangled in love's-ville.
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human

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Take a knife. Make sure that's well-sharpened. Cut my soul in two and wait quietly to see by yourself what it's filled with. In the beginning, you will observe the sea with the cloudy waves of melancholy . And you will see the sun. A scorching sun . Then, you're going to feel a comforting marine breeze . (it likes to walk tenderly through my soul) Cut a little bit more to see how many waves of laughter jump out, but be careful to not spill 'em. (they're therapy for my various disappointments) Not to forget. You will see some failures . Ignore them. Someday I'll fix them. Cut a bit deeper and you'll find dreams which I still have, and also desires and fantasies… (I've to mention I have a special affinity with 'em) After that, I'd like you to look carefully at the top. Right there is happiness . Do you recognize it? I'm Human. I'm a lot of things each day of the week. I have about everything in this soul of mine, but I'm not afraid of t...
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i think you know

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i filled some spaces with some lovely motley words… i think you know 'em stressed but invited was, — [proofreader of the mood] my muse's muse, — you laughing, you played and showed your amour proper… cheered me a lot, — cheered
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