i want more

By Coco
📸 Free to use

i want more action
tween words' spaces, your thoughts howled, —
so music filled 'em

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mille fois

By Coco
i am the sky of the skies above all the skies, bearing the sun of the sun of all the suns, and the moon of the moon of all the moons i am the world of the worlds of all the worlds, bearing the star of the stars of all the stars, and the dream of the dream of all the dreams i am the wish of the wish of all the wishes, bearing the night of the night of all the nights, and the day of the days of all the days i am the love of the love of all the loves, bearing the color of the colors of all the colors, and the joy of the joys of all the joys i am the very best of the best of all the best, for i am the i of myself of all the i of the selves of i, crème de la crème of all the crème de la crème (je suis mille fois un trait distinctif  traduite), while a thousand times is not enough for what i am for any sky, any world, any wish, any love, inculcated
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as sweet as a sin...

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I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, when you hold the fasting of me demurely in your soul and mind loving me till God and looking humbled for the light to find a smell of the saint of myrrh. I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, then, when you're waiting for dispensation, that dispensation for love without knowing if it'll come this sweetness of godly thought with the smell of books and innocence. I'm as sweet as a sin, and you… you gotta be a chocolate Jesus looking in the sinner inside you knowing that it is not a miraculous icon or healing source that could heals you of me... me............................as sweet as a sin…
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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
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solitaire

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the loyalty of an impeccable, known " l'grand solitaire ", it is a hobbyist of dreams that's revising its priorities, adopting passionately and yet furtively, a love's course ‧ it knows that fate will not be blamed for sloppy games of the ignorant folks who fail to adjudge that a schism it is just another way to spend time with the lovely one ‧ after all, a dream has dreams to remember… by and by
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i really wanted you

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Why are you on the roof of my dreams, still, when already my night, gone, humming — “I really wanted you...” , suggesting to you a little trait about “just yesterday” while your dawn has arrived relaxed for me in a superhuman suit, sniffing everything of what I spread on you…‽ ∙ Why are you on the roof of my whispers when my smile lives among melodies that hunt the lips of your words through the stars' cheeks fated to stir the future just to bud the spark of lust at the exact time when the poetry melts in the kiss of metaphors and the gaze of tenderness…‽ ▫▫▫ This distinct „Why” one, it's the name of longing, (a prudent longing) that asks while it waits in the chamber of alchemy, matrix after matrix, of the beauty out of beauty, in the universe of the verb (to love), while a cup of coffee captivates guests with („Why”) in a welcoming cadence.
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her world

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in the sanctity of meticulously dreams, meant to fracture the loneliness, nicely triggered by some beloved memories, you're labeled as the addict i play with ‧ on the pavement of whispers, absently, your team of longing takes a little walk and whistles in my pulsation's rhythms, just as once, when we staged our ritual ‧ i'm a she or her world as a love's tenant lured in a sly game, bizarrely transparent in a situationship without situationship inspired by an effect without final effect ‧ scratches' traces mapped by my scars, percolated your charm to others' charm as i exposed you as a fabricated oddity using algorithms that cheat algorithms ‧ my innate style is an aberrant architect, nonchalantly negotiating any limitation, just to pacify your mind, for isn't a gaffe if you feel explicit thrill due to my mood
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the island

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come... — catch out my poetry's nipples with the island lips of yours ‧ suck out of it... the rain of my emotions announced in the forecast of love ‧ any dose will transfer in you the energy from the nest of my stars ‧ the molecular activity of my atmosphere is gonna erect your hemisphere ‧ our happiness from the present of now will immortalize any picture falling down  ‧ the vapors of our passion will sign with pseudo name, — [end of the world]
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adrenaline

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every morning, before sniffing out the day's whispers, I'm taking first, my adrenaline's dose, [as usually] ‧ the sun, the chirping of the tiny sparrows, the breeze of the sea, try impressing my windowpane ‧ each of them takes care of any part of me, improving magically, my coiffure, my eyes, my mood ‧ the hugs, the kisses, the innocent giggles, are advanced by love's light that loves bathing in me...
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somewhere

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an explicit saline councilor in the deepness of my eyes, sings prominently your song its treasured susurrations bent to my heart's pond, somewhere in the right ventricle a beauty orchestrated by lungs like a Scottish bagpipe sound made to oxygenate all senses
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emotion

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my emotion got been written at the morning coffee with the ink of dream that dreams me… the influence of mine with yours spun up to the sky for blooming in a color's custody full of desires… our lust made us confess again, how wildly about we're to each other… then… everything around us smiled
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