where d'you think you're going

my lungs cried out,

my skin has dried in my own salt,

my dreams transpired hope,

hope colored the words,

words have exposed my feelings,

forgetting to transform them

(in facts)

that's how you became a poetry

for forever, — immortal

for forever, — mine

therefore, in tandem with all that, —

where d'you think you're going

when you're stuck here, —

through my mind,

through my soul,

on my lips,

through my eyes,

in my dreams,

through my hopes,

through my feelings,

in my guts,

through my words,

avidly sipping

my moods' ambiance

Sweet Precious You,

My Dearest Reader, —

The Philanthropist,

The Charming Spirit

who doesn't judge

but entertains itself

with at the very least one

of my articles, —

Thank You.

Thank you for your flair.

I admire it deeply.

🧸

Un P´tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

© C.M.P. 📜🪶