I am trained to remember even today about some clouds in silvery tempers, brought from nowhere to bring still, out of the blue, a frightening rainfall ▫ I tend to feel the drops' corpulence and their moisture under my soles still, counting my steps and fluid feints while it's lauding my team's equipment ▫ It's like I'm absorbed in the whispers that sends you to help yourself to me, if you have those goals enough to win when you step onto my handball court ▫ As an athlete, I'm trained to notify you, I was born to be a champion. So I am.

when i want love, my lungs hear my wish letting a song be, — [your hands on my dreaming heart]; in between, another song prepares your lips on my lips to push me to the stars [to moan... with mad lust]; adjusted by the light of your eyes, i'm kissed and wrapped in poetry's empire [for love is what it is], — king of your heart and queen of my heart where i call you and you call me anytime [at the hour of the abstract art];

it is the sly hour with the story of your smile, smile with which you simulate your absence absence that welded in you, my presence, presence that seems to start daily with a new foreplay for testing your balance balance placed between loving and forgetting enough to pollinate your eardrums eardrums that hear me buzzing tenderly, like a honey-bee; catty, like the story of your smile

your eyes, lips, face, body, hands, feet and hair seem cabalistic, as if it's a sacred will, you to be sculpted in my mind, every day over again ∙ confident, I sowed on you a smile, dreamily and equally temptingly, with a strange color blue, chiseled to rent to you my graph to feel me