Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

A guy tells a story: — “…after a romantic evening, I led her home, but before crossing the threshold, she turned to me and kissed me, then, she whispered to me, provocatively”, — “What about staying here overnight?”...  Hmm... I look at her and I answered, — “nooope…” (between us), — what the hell am I supposed to do all night long, (alone), in front of a door?

Would you love a person who laughs at anything and could be noisy for is hiding tears of pains in her solitary soul? [Someone did it]. Would you encourage and determine this person to feel precious? [Someone did it]. Would you love a nitpicker person who underestimates itself and calls you at unexpected hours, weeping? 1…5678! Shout! [Someone did it]. Would you be able to love a person with inferiority complexes? [Someone did it]. Would you teach this person to not compare itself with others? [Someone did it]. Would you show that person how cool, unique, and different is it? [Someone did it]. Would you love that person with a lot and plenty of painful secrets? [Someone did it]. Would you listen to that person, hours, snuggling it with all your love? [Someone did it]. Would you love this person because dreams of that love depicted in books, one that provokes butterflies in your stomach? [Someone did it]. Would you love that person because isn't afraid to be different? [Someone did i...

oh, my love... — are plenty of stuff you can't talk about them to anyone, choosing to tell 'em to night's realm

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...

Shhh... Keep quiet... Are my whispers heard? Not?! In this case, time didn't come yet to get me out of your dream... Shhh... Keep sleeping I must sail under false colors for other wolves not ripping the metaphors of what we are when we howl at each other. Keep quiet... Keep sleeping... Keep shushing. Keep wolfy pace. Dream of me suggestively. I'll keep howlin' for you, coded.

« Tie your heart at night to mine, love, and both will defeat the darkness like twin drums beating in the forest against the heavy wall of wet leaves. Night crossing: black coal of dream that cuts the thread of earthly orbs with the punctuality of a headlong train that pulls cold stone and shadow endlessly. Love, because of it, tie me to a purer movement, to the grip on life that beats in your breast, with the wings of a submerged swan, So that our dream might reply to the sky's questioning stars with one key, one door closed to shadow. »

at a time's hour, in a day, when you kissed me, you placed on my lips your mellifluous fantasy, forever, when I think of you, some of their witticisms to color me with passion of your wildest dreams…

❝ I am fair, O mortals! Like a dream carved in stone,  And my breast where each one, in turn, has bruised himself Is made to inspire the poet in a love As eternal and silent as matter. On a throne in the sky, a mysterious sphinx, I join a heart of snow to the whiteness of swans; I hate movement for it displaces lines, And never do I weep and never do I laugh. Poets, before my grandiose poses, Which I seem to assume from the proudest statues, Will consume their lives in the austere study; For I have, to enchant those submissive lovers, Pure mirrors that make all things more beautiful: My eyes, my large, wide eyes of eternal brightness! ❞

you made me fucking in love with you in such a way that I don't even know anymore what to do with my own self as if the entire universe loves to see my spirit free and explosively wild for you, — (the cosmic creature taking the fire's shape, tamed so bluish by a magic trick of mine)

start each day and live it in such a way that when you get out of bed, early in the morning, to make the devil say: aw shit, s/he's up

love me today exactly as if I'd be a suave melody, be poetic, be like a painter full of gentleness in his enormous attention for any detail... — love me today exactly as if you are hypnotized by some drops of rain in a tropical summer night to cool you to cool me by this fever full of longing love me today exactly as if you search for a reason that brings me back to you, not in the morning, not even at midnight, but at the hour when you read... my savor

sensibility isn't feminine, is human and when it meets a man, it becomes poetry… (by my side)

— do you know where you are? — …in a dream — which one? — an invented one — which one? — the one of an intimate exploration, hidden in the shape of an external search,      reshaped to keep the dream alive —  which one? — the dream you dream i feel you feel me

we look like two molecules of hydrogen; we have similar valences breathing same incantations between two kisses fastened in a knot with all basic water's characteristics, — odorless, colorless, insipid, and invisible, enough for our love to not be seen in all we have and all that holds us to be, like a liquid mass in our senses reflecting desires to all places, i, only to be with you, you, only to be with me

lightly... in the absent stronghold of her exquisite mind; and, oddly, his wildest dreams, disappeared; disappeared also all his interests, due to a radio song; a vicious one, reflecting love's phases and fears;

Je fais souvent ce rêv' étrang' et pénétrant D'une femm' inconnue, et que j'aime, et qui m'aime Et qui n'est, chaque fois, ni tout à fait la mêm' Ni tout à fait un' autr', et m'aim' et me comprend. Car elle me comprend, et mon cœur transparent Pour elle seul' hélas ! cesse d'êtr' un problème Pour elle seul', et les moiteurs de mon front blêm', Elle seule les sait rafraîchir, en pleurant. Est-elle brune, blonde ou rouss' ? Je l'ignor. Son nom ? Je me souviens qu'il est doux et sonore Comme ceux des aimés que la Vie exila. Son regard est pareil au regard des statues, Et, pour sa voix lointain' et calme et grav', ell' a L'inflexion des voix chères qui se sont tues.

❝ extinguish my eyes, i'll go on seeing you; seal my ears, i'll go on hearing you; and without feet, i can make my way to you, without a mouth, i can swear your name; break off my arms, i'll take hold of you, with my heart as with a hand; stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat; and if you consume my brain with fire, i'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood ❞

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… ...