Poetic Mood ⋅ Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

hybridized in each December skies' source, — i am, — generated by desires and dreams with talkative hands and piercing pupils ⋆ hybridized in the synthesis of exquisiteness, — i am, — engendered in the mystery of poetry, pivoted by a major clandestine moment ⋆ hybridized in the sun rays and flower buds, — i am, — a tangible caress of the shiver, in tandem with life sucking milk from an eager love ⋆ hybridized in the zodiac of the majestic stars, — i am, — an ember unleashed, a soul-shaking whim, an entity, radiating optimism, stirring up joy

Today I rejuvenated. My face is mine. My heart has its own heart. The silver-white hair's coiffure shows a few strands of my golden blonde. My soul has its own soul. Today, my whole being cries out with joy. And it whispers. And it laughs. And it loves. Love loves to feel me in love. My beautiful face is even more beautiful, beautified by a few wrinkles. My body has a body. Lively. Firm. Supple. And attracts attention. All the looks. And my thoughts are realistic. My journey has the journey. My steps lead to success. My everything shows the value. I radiate the elegance. Today, my life is reformed. On this day, like every year, I am again originally reborn. More beautiful. Newer. More successful. I'm the energy. Today — (D13) — everyone can feel my true smell. Jasmine. Magnolia. I'm emanating a suave perfume from my every molecule. Today, I am embodied in happiness. Everyone around me smiles. Their thoughts and feelings smile, too. Dreams are alive. I live them. I give ever...

the gravitational attraction is at home into this translation, rippled gracefully on creek's groove of longing's quench my tales' lips, so crystalline tenderized, interpret to you, sedated, on your cheek, words' silhouette, for you to absorb 'em in each crumb of your immune system meticulously, my narrative's blue eyes with their infinite fiends, authenticate you with their acting thrill equipped in yours and like Newton's disc, that certain thing‧‧ will roll in colors and all-white intensities, like the smile of this day, (D13), and a tchin-tchin 🥂, chic 🫦, à ma façon…

today's poetry found me traversing in new confessions of the happening for i am, so-so loved, so-so idolized, so-so kissed, hugged, and so fulfilled the noblest smiles are always here, next to me, so encouraging, so skilled, oxygenating any story i breathe daily, keeping buoyant love's blaze, intense so if i feel as if i am the moon's flower, or the sun's fruit, having lips honeyed, blood hot, inspiring any celestial body to get in, it's only because of this day (D13), (tchin-tchin 🥂 à la  ᵏᴼᵏᴼ‧‧‧ 💕) a manner illustrated to live without fear, smartly, confidently, for happiness is, I

he licks the riffs, the melodies identify sounds of today's treasure exquisitely advanced just to me i'm into something good, 🥂 tchin-tchin! you know my name, you called me in your dreams…

same date, same month, same hour, different year exploring deeply the reflections of the story I am while other new chapters like many myriad others are waiting happily to be sublimely explored and invoked at the category of wonder with pleasure using some joyfulness & the visionary innocence of my spirit balanced delightfully at life's power in the abundance of love to my subtly delectation tchin-tchin à la ᵏᴼᵏᴼ🥂

Imagination is just like facts. It's just as much as reality. It's like an intense, unknowing love. It's as deep, or perhaps even more focused than a shared but not materialized love. A love, which regardless of its form, doesn't waste any twinkle in gestures, or words that can't always be expressed but constantly appears on this day, D13. That's the truest truth… And yes, it's a pleonasm, à la ᵏᴼᵏᴼ more or less………….bad as hell tchin-tchin 🥂

the galaxy rotates in the rhythm of the music for an authentic mood of the dreamer you are, lost and delighted, breathing my love and will, to cut up the shield where I am with your lust; emotions felt, set the joy no matter whenever in a tender blue with a merry Christmas, baby, for love of December is adorned by your thrill wrapped in a little bit of everything traditional 🎄

Any ending-year whispers to me, — you're the most beautiful poetry, as so much unreal as you are true, clad in your mysterious air of a manuscript. And yet, like my predecessors, I've got to abdicate now. So keep me in your thoughts to remain that mark of those seconds in your hottest and tendentious priorities. 𓇼 to each one, I whispered, — 𓇼 I'm easier than a thought in your mind and heavier than a dream that you could dream. Take me like a figment dressed in verses, waltzing, then, hold me tight in your arms, purely and intensely, for our love to rise over borders, to be irrevocable and to fulfill concretely our story from one letter to another letter, from one word to another word, from a tune to another tune... and to have butterflies, to feel like I'm flying with all those vibrations wandering throughout the world, through the thoughts, souls and... — we'll collect kisses for dreams, and we'll give meaning to a life-paradise with the passionate shiver of...

winter holiday is present, waiting for you to hug it with gentleness, with the sweetish soul, with a cheery gaze, with smoothly thought wrapped and hypnotized by love, the vital essence found in each of us, — the one which shaped us from the early beginning … happy holidays! tchin-tchin 🥂 🎄

At an end of the world You to the other one I Not talking just listening to a fenced harmonious murmur A silhouette, rising up on Different-Shades-of-Blue I am When-She-Dances the reason you watch me Unbroken, you see me… sweet, like a sin  🫦 tchin-tchin! santé  🥂

— how is, about right now, — (the subject of love‧‧‧) — [the subject of love‧‧‧] is like a shadow of a tiny     silvery-golden light with a blue dusted still — how is, about right now, — (the conversation‧‧‧) — [the conversation‧‧‧] is almost like a silent noise     felt like having the taste of the wild fruits — how is, about right now, — (the emotion‧‧‧) — [the emotion‧‧‧] is like a fluffy cloud     with the scent of winter — how is, about right now, — (the echo‧‧‧) — [the echo‧‧‧] is like a gentle murmur of the whistling — how is, about right now, — (a favorite color‧‧‧) — [a favorite color‧‧‧] is like a delicatessen — how is, about right now, (dear, You‧‧‧) — [dear, You‧‧‧] it's equipped with a delicatessen     of a gentle fluff through a tacit shadow — how is, about right now, (dear, I‧‧‧) — [dear, I‧‧‧] it's composed in the company of a favorite color     with the sound of pleasure in the love's conversation — how is, about right n...

At this hour like that, the gentleness of the wind flows over me. The whole universe loves me. And… (again), my shiny fancy outfit is my pajamas… — (carefully...), — I've combined a feeling with a word, which contains much more philosophy than usual, using the magic power of some incantation and the essence of (why-what-who…) it is, — a kind of… quiet and good-natured,  (؟‽)  — a kind of… alluring and perfidious, (؟‽) — a kind of… honest and open,  (؟‽)  — a kind of… pompous and mischievous,  (؟‽)  — a kind of… mute and stubborn,  (؟‽)  — (while all together maintain the scent of my bohème beauty, wrapped kindly...) ,  (in one's mystery...)  (؟‽). Those things created some connection, allowing me to make a trip on a route that seems not to be similar but rather meticulously updated, facilitating a story already lived and felt next to someone, which even if it isn't versed enough, influences all facets of emotional factors that make subst...

You said I will forget you, but you forgot to mention in which life. Which's the universe without any remembering about the whispers of your eyes, the sweetness of your lips...? And why...? Why, while I think of you, I miss you more and more, over again... at... endlessly…? You said that I'll forget you… So in this case, you have to tell me through what galaxy this fact will really happen and I will lose myself in laxity forgetting your smile, your gaze... and your kisses… forgetting all and any memory… and swear I'll let 'em crush into a thousand shards, as your wills, exactly as you wished, — [me, like a beggar, begging you to sing… a song of love to me] You said that I'll forget you but you've been wrong... — I never stopped looking for you... and muchly sure I never will...

I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, when you hold the fasting of me demurely in your soul and mind loving me till God and looking humbled for the light to find a smell of the saint of myrrh. I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, then, when you're waiting for dispensation, that dispensation for love without knowing if it'll come this sweetness of godly thought with the smell of books and innocence. I'm as sweet as a sin, and you… you gotta be a chocolate Jesus looking in the sinner inside you knowing that it is not a miraculous icon or healing source that could heals you of me... me............................as sweet as a sin…