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, music witchery is touching me and metamorphose me in the whispers of stars, properly orchestrated by your wildish thoughts, making me look like a tableaux vivant out of your preferred color palette 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 ever, inciting me to add additional loves' names to your love for me. Under the influence of the moon's breeze and of its charisma, I invoked dream's power to lure you inside my unpredictability to mention your name, – ( give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain ).

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