Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

in love, if you're not losing your mind, it means you waste your time, isn't it? the breast of the muses is scorching… lips bit one other for so much unkissed the small crimes of longing are smiling, laying on my bed, listening to bedding naturally, who's getting mood to write when all body is so as trapped in love

I'm thinking of you. It's true, with short interruptions. Any page of my personal diary is filled with your image. I've stocked you everywhere, but nowhere so well as in my mind and soul. I painted you with fingertips on my body. I sang and called you out. And when I wandered by myself, I knew where to find you. You're in my weirdest/wildest dreams where you waited for me so many times and where you always are like a straitjacket with your arms over my body... — like the only drug that I can digest and that I hardly wait to be brought to me, — You... — come, drug me, babe.

I painted you in the pastel of my heart when thousands of colors were not enough to caress warmly so many vagueness forms in the steps of time and when all other painters were breathing just black and white. I reread you in noblest book rigged on a shelf without the dust of the soul. I've muttered the warmest song out of unnumbered sounds thrown tenaciously toward the many ears but some haven't afforded to listen to it. I chose you be my director who turns drama in a romantic story with a happy ending knowing that the end actually embraces a new beginning formulated to blow up in another one verbalized in our mind.

a cup with the sweetness of winter's tea preserves still the irresistible fragrance of our absolute kiss phrased in pigments and silhouettes of our dream, connected with our mind through an unspoken story of our insatiable love tinted, — forbidden  

❝ this call, this call for lust echoes inside [echoes inside] this ghost of sin, of skin echoes inside [echoes inside] hours without end losing myself waiting, waiting for your dance echoes inside me [echoes inside me] i could believe the signs you've left a leap of true faith just trying to share the song inside my head  [the song inside my head] oblivion makes a move and i forgot to forget what could be the end, to share i could believe the signs you've left a leap of true faith just trying to share the song inside my head  [the song inside my head] this ghost.... ❞

a sublime debut of a madly morning attracts you on the dancefloor of mind its rhythm vibrates magnificent arousing a sense that once you ignored but you don't feel embarrassed at all, contrary, your little dreamer soul hums farewell is the burden of life's origin to discharge joys' cycle at [new degrees]

morning rouse, — bizarre dream of last night, — forgot Les Fleurs at the coffee, — interesting Les Litanies, — followed with Lord's Prayer darkness, — identical as is a lit side; the beauty of ugly, the ugly of beauty, — Baudelaire explained; night and day, — unseparated; increasing, decreasing, — equally; the love, — is there or is not at all... defines a weakness, — artistic creation; a pray, — telepathy works... come closer

He murmured to me, suggestively, — [oh, my Lady], a mixed mirage, I live, next to you, since the day I met you... It's, as if I see the moonfall serenade dancing on fantasy's velvety sculpture orchestrated deeply by your longings. Nothing haunt me more than you do. I feel you even when you say nothing. You do to me what tides and time do. Endless carnal desires are tingling me. I'm tortured by love. Your miles away love... (when he plunged his heart and it let it be swallowed, by my oceans of dreams)

outmoded are those that wanted you and me not to get together; outraged, the time wanted to be in trend too and paralyzed the seconds, both of us to roam like two crazy between each other's thoughts; but the moon intervened and with gold threads it glazed our souls; the sea dancing in circles through you and me, it dressed us with her breeze in a mating ritual of senses to dispel away everything we felt as a homework of culpability even if we've got puzzled... nothing and nobody could stop us... tenacious, we still dare, we still dream... you're wanting me... I'm wanting you... whole lotta love...

even when i'm waking up later in the morning, i make time to put a drop of a rose on my lips, just enough to fable to me a thrilling whisper at the rendezvous with the happiness you are, one of my favorite faded fantasies lost willingly with your alluring essences into my essences

Close your eyes. Feel me. I'm fragile. I do pirouettes thru butterflies' thoughts. There, we live our stories, still unwritten, but kept in the space of a bud's hope. Trapped in each other, I kiss your eyelids on twilight from now until forever, sweet dream of my dream. Your dream is... I... [meet me here], [meet me there], [meet me everywhere...]

 I can't tell you why... but... through your eyes, I dream, in your dream, I'm pulled with fun spells and songs thrown by different senses through your mouth, I eat love rebuild and fixed in your time and space garnished with your visions through your thoughts, I am wildflower perfume guided in your bedding where once I have been and I will be still

It's sinister to wait for someone to remember about your existence. Sometimes, departing from there, it's the only way to show the emptiness which remains in that place. Therefore, choose never to look back again. It's an equitable action. Offer it as if it's a declaration of love… a sublime orgasm totally lacked, but teases the blood with its heat. Offer it, like a drug that's given by a song, found exactly like has been created, in poetry suspended in its own mécanisme. There are enough blossomed dreams and time, for somebody who cares, to invoke any memory… (one who cares).

in the dawning, about at budding sun, love has transfused within my nudity, fulfilling me deeply as a woman i am, as a woman like you have dreamt, too often, [no more, no less, never yours]

perfume of a gentle, untamed summer, sweet pie with mascarpone and cherry, ice cream with chocolate and caramel, adequately music swimmingly diffused, tender whispers assaulting hot desires, lips on a crystal with something dreamt, and kisses on the nape to give frissons there, [somewhere, someday, somehow] [like a some Kokomo realm] felt to d‧a‧y

some thought crawls its foot, slowly and rhythmically causeless, I look up and down, even if i feel it inside me robotized, my thought's voice asks, — who's there, talk instantly, i am filled with music adapted by you… so fine

I don't know what you go through, but I try to imagine you're reading these lines while you sip something, as you like it. ⋯ I don't know if you're happy or not, but I can suspect. Not because I have special powers but of the signs you sent. ⋯ I don't know if you smile to yourself or you check some playlists, but I can assume you're in a search for a mood. ⋯ I don't know if you crave some chocolate or you want to walk on dreams' route, while you're sandwiched with your owns. ⋯ I don't know if love's spirit booze took you making you imagine we're together, while the beams of the stars touch us alike. I know nothing, except that each morning we rouse and go through this circus of time, over and over again, facing it nonchalantly.

« perhaps not to be is to be without your being, without your going, that cuts noon light like a blue flower, without your passing later through fog and stones, without the torch, you lift in your hand those others may not see as golden, that perhaps no one believed blossomed the glowing origin of the rose, without in the end your being your coming suddenly, inspiringly, to know my life, blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze: and it follows that I am because you are: it follows from "you are" that I am, and we: and, because of love, you will, I will, we will come to be»

indifferent when; how; why; even if; perhaps; because; precisely; especially; somehow; in as much as; and; anyway; where; which; as when; what; as if; by who, — on you... — i love you... i leaned my heart on you, [you...] my tireless experience

❝ i dream, i dream too much,  but if i dream too much,  i only dream to touch your heart,  to touch your heart again;  i close my eyes and see your hand,  your smile, your joy in loving me;  we dance, we dance and sing,  we steal a touch of spring;  i dream of everything, everything,  everything we to have known;  and yet, my dreams, yet my dreams,  my dreams had shown me that perhaps  i dream, perhaps i dream,  perhaps i dream too much alone...  too much alone ❞

it's between us... — between us is chemistry, a greedy desire, like poetry; it's something that should be; it's a path from me to you like a dandelion puff... — it is synesthesia… an elusive fusion blue; it's the fact I want you in me utterly like a symphony of colors through feelings; it's what's yours and I deserve it; it's what's mine, advanced to you; it's a deep attraction between us, — not even a fissure can't decide when we should be and not be together

love is weak when fear is equally strong, yet, to dream with hope that a wonderful thought will wake you up in some sweet sounds and could bring you still some feelings and a smile, then all you gotta do is chuchotement les mots, – à toi, — salut d'amour

Touch your lips with her divine goodies. Rustle 'em softly, to feel joy in your mouth. Expected, one kiss led to another one, brewed to be her jargon when she wants good lovin'. Layout your honeyed perfume, to swing in rhythms of the hungered tango of both. Let the entire passion ricochet inside you. Listen to your soul naming your blood, [her]. Your thoughts' skin wants to get adorned with her shapes; wants you to vibe, startling.

count out all the stars from the beginning of the world till the other end of the world, then look to the universe, garnished with the scent of lust, longing, and sweet love (a beautiful brightness has been spread out all over us)  

❝ Cet amour Si violent Si fragile Si tendre Si désespéré Cet amour Beau comme le jour Et mauvais comme le temps Quand le temps est mauvais Cet amour si vrai Cet amour si beau Si heureux Si joyeux Et si dérisoire Tremblant de peur comme un enfant dans le noir Et si sûr de lui Comme un homme tranquille au milieu de la nuit Cet amour qui faisait peur aux autres Qui les faisait parler Qui les faisait blêmir Cet amour guetté Parce que nous le guettions Traqué blessé piétiné achevé nié oublié Parce que nous l’avons traqué blessé piétiné achevé nié oublié Cet amour tout entier Si vivant encore Et tout ensoleillé C’est le tien C’est le mien Celui qui a été Cette chose toujours nouvelle Et qui n’a pas changé Aussi vrai qu’une plante Aussi tremblante qu’un oiseau Aussi chaude aussi vivant que l’été Nous pouvons tous les deux Aller et revenir Nous pouvons oublier Et puis nous rendormir Nous réveiller souffrir vieillir Nous endormir encore Rêver à la mort, Nous éveiller sourire et rire Et rajeunir...

willingly and knowingly would you want to be  one of my most exquisite dreams‽ (you should summon one) ⋯ (jazz-up your ambiance in this manner) ⋯ dare and let yourself feel, like a hummingbird of the charm, of the joy, of the life's spectacle be one of my Poetic Allusions' audience, — be Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi ⋯ of mine

a magic moment before to be aroused, it's for calibrating the entire day... it's a dance between heaven's daughter affianced with the only one entity... for some, this's god, and for some others, the number of the beast, defining music    so Life, — Music, Please__________

what are you listening to, it's something which makes you feel as if you're dematerialized and teleported towards a magical realm of fantasy, built in the bedding of all you wanna be to me

i have the taste of a song from your lips on my mouth; it fills my space with senses, as if our thoughts, right now, sail to each other, to create the absolutely sublime touch with the uncontrollable power of love's realm, echoing, to us, my Love will protect You

— An old wine… — A new woman… — New and cloudy and spicy and noisy… — Suspended between desire and reserve, I want to live my present without destroying the future… — Yours or ours? — Since when exists… ours? — Exists… starting… by… now… — Do we have and… a kind of past? — About two glasses…🥂 — Hmm… do you know, I've got a secret, I've made mistakes… — It would be weird if you'd not been doing any… — You're strange… — Uh… what would you expect? — I expect to be the first one that will not be dumped by you… — Do you think I look like the one who leaves? — It doesn't matter… — It matters to me… — Would you want another glass? — Hmm… but I'm going to see you double and I don't want to feel as if I'm cheating you, with you… — Well, we all want to drink the same wine but to have another kind of drunkenness, huh? — So… what are you waiting for? — I'm waiting for you to be…that happening which happens to me… ...

make a sum of all the things which could bring to you joy, divide everything into a few… you’ll get a fractionated result; give up; add a peaceful moment found in a book and some music; in wet mind deems nothing is real

defines love, — to define love is to limit it, so better not… love is time, time is relative, relativeness is unintended

a blue mug, two teaspoons of coffee, two lumps of sugar, hot water, and citrus juice... [to garnish my smile] luring, music plays in the background something suavely... something i listened to... not so long ago, [hmm] made my lips soliciting… a plus one

Right at this very present hour, all I think about, it's the dream that I will have tonight. I put everything necessary in it. It'll not be missing anything, which couldn't help. What are you saying, could you be there?

my soul is burning with love; inside there you burn with me

fulminating thunders and lightning  with the noisy moans of the rain, made not a boring night but rather a dementedly funny one, with all kinds of callings, until i fell asleep on the lullaby rhythm of the storm, as later to find myself arousing in the gentle tickling of the chirpings with lyrically beautiful faces, exposed in my tenderness with an aurora aura, and the shade of a calm moonbeam hugged by summer's scent and your talismanic smile at degree of art

Between Me and You is a kind of something where the specific word couldn't be found in any dictionary 𓇼 The brainy ones didn't invent it yet, god himself wonders what creatures we are, and devil has regrets 𓇼 When others watch us, they torture themselves with the same question, — who's posing as — Me‧‧‧ who's posing as — You‧‧‧ 𓇼   You & Me‧‧‧ Me & You‧‧‧

kiss me, — on the neck, shoulders, words, on everything that comes in your mind, you about me to remember back and far with love, longing and caresses, — so sensual, kiss me...

love has its own path; it's like a fine gas which spreads in you through all your blood; it's like a poison that paralyzes you before you know it; when you realized, it's too late... the time is too short or too fast; all you can say is, — have... that certain thing, (un p’tit je ne sais quoi)

I feel as if you're infiltrated in my veins as if you're walking like a master  through my senses... Go ahead and walk. It's your own right. I belong to you, Love. I'm just saying what I have to… — Say

i'm not sure how paradise looks like but i know exactly how's the feeling made it up inside my head, any time when I come to You, my sweetheart

— knock, knock – who's there? — the doors – the doors who? — the doors are between us; open up to play a little game

My longing for you is hypnotizing... Is narcotic... What happens to me, it's beyond me... And this mastery, it's not up to us but just being afraid about what I feel or what you feel, — (especially the metaphysical aspects of us). You realize your love for me is pure and true, and this discovery perhaps intimidates you in a typical way as if you're part of my DNA, — (forever and evermore...) The sky is static but shows me exactly how to love you. I've been waiting for you muchly, from early origins to come... to live in my dream... in my thoughts... To let the emotions be written by... (atmosphere‽). Now, you're giving me colors... Even some fears. Then, some desires and lights... (expectations‽). I have you and I don't have you. Between us is a frozen border for being and not being together. In a ride named — Desire, we are and aren't there. It was so fine when we met on a day when we knew, (we are...) and, on another day, we remembered what we'...

more than 1000 songs, have crayoned my skin over 1000 moans and longs, decoded my thoughts more than 1000 times, i listened to them some of them stirred my soul and wrote my moodiness if you try to infer me from 'em, don't feel as if you're sinning (skip it… skip me…), after all, you will find out, — (if loving you is a crime), (i'll always be guilty)

 

look, — at this time I go out, if you come between times, get in, (you know how...), make yourself comfortable, — a shower... eat something, take a glass... anything you like, watch a movie, listen to some music... and wait for me; when I'll be back, I would like to hear all your stories... sitting cozy, taken refuge in my arms, (i promise I'll take care of You)

My thoughts were arrested by a sorcerer which lives in a castle hidden somewhere in the coral forest from a deep blue sea. To get 'em out, I need a firm incantation but I'm not sure if abracadabra will work even if Steve Miller is a brilliant magician. Anyway, no matter what happens, I'll use a few... — tonight... Probably one of them will have a damn gorgeous witchery...

sometimes she screams so mighty that even earplugs of the sky are useless… but sometimes she likes to hide through silences where someone's thought caresses her wet lashes and it bandages her sadness with kisses… enough to remind her, — (she's loved)

in all her essences with every life of his, he looks for her forever to love her into each

Do you think that one candle will be enough with its gentle and gracious light to give a suitable nuance for our love's twilight? Do you think that one song will be enough to touch with gentleness our openness, structuring new visions in this deep reverie? Do you think that we could be absolved by any culpability when the music wakes up the shiver that shudders some senses? Do you think I think that a new question will be reformulated in a predictable answer? ∴∵ I think that nuanced was only the question for our love got thru curtains' series, long time ago. I think the one who believes this... finally will start to compose new songs because of some visions. I think that I could be a bit accused only for the smile that you brought to me when you asked this. And I think the perfect answer amid to any question could be given with approximation by someone who inspires you at a certain moment. ∴∵ Just a few words, an approach, — nothing more... ∴∵ [I never had you...], — [Is it sa...

❝ Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually. ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry,  or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken. And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken and the drunkenness on behalf  or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, of whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "Time to get drunk! Don't be martyred slaves of Time, Get drunk! Stay drunk! On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!" ❞