catch me when i fall
birds' chirps, fall and climb playfully, at my window, cheering winter's breeze good mood caught me too, – guess someone opened its wings to catch me when I fall
poetic audience
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get moving
by
Coco
my eyes get moving along with anything displays the night, — (a song, a pic, a story) gazing at it, looks like a bazaar of surprises, blazing many profiles, (unique, or just so-so) one of 'em seemed as if, furtive, it's stalking me; i even swore were you, but what to see it wasn't (equable), i winked at you, thinking you do the same, but wasn't time to see, cos in a wink, night flew
daydream
by
Coco
if you forget me
❝ I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours, that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it's long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms...
i am with you
I've trained myself with your didactic material, enough to know as long as I can still fantasize, I'll fantasize with you, despite I'm forced to admit that sometimes I have nightmares. Some about you are not with me, and I am with you neither. But then, I'm okay... (once I realize you're here). ⋯ You are with me like a joy bestowed by a jewel, (sparkly in the dimness, irresistible in the light). You are a whisper on my cheek or a sneaky smile. You are the sequence cited in desire of my gaze, or a graphic artist who draws my bliss wrinkles. Desirably, you are everywhere. You are the time. ⋯ (a time living with a dream in words' simpleness)
another brick in the wall
by
Coco
...the memories of the communism, of the dictatorship, in the cult of the fear, are sealing the lips, are petrifying the facial muscles, are ripping the soul, while the howl of the reality is locking the lungs with the padlock of anxiety, using the key of manipulation, attired in military boots; ...people are stuck in a profound disgust of what the hell happens; ...suddenly, everybody feels censored, just to not hear and see each other's truth, right in the most crucial point; even AI knows; ... the view of a high percentage, promoted nowadays, it's the war, it's the fascism, it's the antisemitism, it's a voice that's not mine or yours, but of someone which with others are using it as if it is; ...entire communities are threatened with all the catastrophic effects that even the imagination is too damn afraid to imagine about; ...a manifestation of the hate, disapproves human attributes, alimenting the souls with an aching pain just to suffer repeatedly; ...the...
so strange
by
Coco
shines the whispers' lights, like dawn's beads, festooning promptly, love's echo, seduced and flung out from the neck of the sun's first thrill poeticized by the zenith of an endless longing thru a window's fissure of dreams' kitchenette sings chic, the thoughts in the mind's boudoir, using decency's taste, anointed in sin's crème, fine impregnated in a strawberry aroma's tale and cherry, adorned in tiny champagne collars thru an enamored soul consumed with desire dance the words on the canvas of the feelings adjusted by the contour of eyes' colors palette, like dawn's beads shine in the whispers' lights, like the thoughts sing thru the mind's boudoir, like the words dance on the canvas of feelings thru a shining Monday to rouse Tuesday's voice while Wednesday, so strange, allures the mood because Thursday's a hot comrade of the Friday that incites Saturday to inspire Sunday's dream to be, chic while you kiss me in fin...
and then there's you
by
Coco
temptation
by
Coco
humorously, the morning sun focused its ray of light thru the tiny rustic branches of an appetizing basket, where chaotic, seductively, delicious, and arrogantly, each lusty temptation for some ripened grape clusters that've debuted their ecstasy, metamorphosing the full view into a wildish passion, macerating chic desire's sap about what you think I think, — (hmm... this sun had much fun)
good for me
by
Coco
…and your whispers, (all Greek to me), made my soul flutter, and lips tingle ‧ my mind translated them as it wished, — living a dream, (want you to want me) ‧ in my lungs, I could feel growing wings, — translucent wings, silky, caressed by lust ‧ my digestive system was overburdened by cocoons' crews, ready to free butterflies ‧ from the forehead of love, I could taste your moistened lips slipping on my lips ‧ like a metaphor of a poet, my eyes shone, letting flow joy in a sweet-toned cascade ‧ the meeting with you was good for me, while falling in love was a magic bonus
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