my soul roams into a realm where the lavender blooms; it craves to devour its odor for it could inhibit a thought skilled at inducing longing ‧ and as my thought migrates in the province that buzzes with velvet purple whispers, i'm serenaded by the breeze of times, lost in hypotheses ‧ and here and there, untamed, my sentiments romp joyfully into the soul of my sensation sealed with the kiss's scepter of an illustrator, i never met

Under the influence of the moon's breeze, You, — ʸₒᵤ•you•ʸᵒᵘ, you metamorphosed me to be the whispers of stars, properly orchestrated by your wildish thoughts, making me look like a tableau vivant out of your preferred shade in the abstract, as if we're meant to be metaphysical as one. Under the influence of the moon's breeze, your incantations appears organized, whenever, wherever, and in any way, provoking me to create additional names to love — our love. Under the influence of the moon's breeze and of its charisma, I invoked dreams' power to lure you inside my unpredictability for your name is now — give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain.

what's essential now is the fact that you're the only one