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 to 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…‽ ▫▫▫ The Why, — 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 decorates guests with (why) in a welcoming cadence

...my longing for you kneads the patience, tames the expectations, inspires the dreams to bear fruit of a gaze with the taste of love ▫▫▫ ...my longing for you disavows the sadness, lives in appeasement, intercepts the feelings, tenderly gesticulated by the lips of your sun ▫▫▫ ...my longing for you explores within the deepest darkness, fearful, to locate your mood in so many playlists, hid by your urge for me