Poetic Mood ⋅ Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

…the forefinger of the thoughts slipping on an explosive story, are swallowing fire and smoke, as if they're some crack cocaine ⋯ with the touch of a kiss and a hug mastered by a sublime smile, your eyes got considerably glued, so you don't get hurt by loving me ⋯ thrilling, in a Republic of Romance, born in a temperamental habitat, uttering in a Latinate elation dialect I am… in the corner of your mouth ⋯ with symptoms of the feeling faint, dreams fall in love by nouns' heads, ⟮mine and yours⟯, visions in visions, overlapped, while spit out the fear ⋯ so the idea got constructed itself, while the music reflected our passion as the forefinger of some thoughts that swallowed both fire and smoke…

the truest truth of the true, it is a challenge just to costume your truth with my truths my truths have sound, color, shape, aroma with symmetric and asymmetric encryption it's seeable only by those that are tempted to look for the true substance of a woman a woman perceived in her true blue as I am with all scented notes emanating from me