Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

I went back here, — to the scene of adventures, where I've come to love you so-so many times, where so serious, you taught me to use silence, and just how it should be scattered and released, and finally, again, to get it caught in my fists. I went back here, — to the scene of adventures for reviving myself in your non-earthly beauty, to let myself be abandoned through your desires and through the space and abyss of a fragile color reflected delightfully in the blue shell of your sea.

“on dit que la passion ça n'arrive qu'une fois...”

A scent you love to smell is I. I'm slipping slow inside you, like the sand in an hourglass, like the time in another time, evaluated at your °C degrees in the symphony of my fever, infused suavely in your dew with your eyes echoing glow to my unseen Venus mirrored in the art of your magnetism, – I murmured to yours dreams.

I know your name… It has risen every morning in my thoughts… but I do not say it aloud, too terrified that the poetry you are with the fragile cat's paw will fall apart somewhere, not where I wait I know your name… I whisper it daily enough to not destabilize the chemistry of us… but also, me to not be somehow incriminated, for my mind bears you deeper than the eye can see Right Back Atcha by Dave Keller

I'll never look for you again; take it as an announcement of love's declaration I've got; take it as a sublime orgasm totally lacked but it teased our blood, like a drug's heat; take it as a song met before of happening in a tiny poem hung, somewhere, thru time; take it as it is, a souvenir kind; enjoy how deep this river runs with all our facts tangled in it;

in the mysterious feminine romanticism stimulated by that escapade mechanism with that explanatory instrument brought charmingly by a deep eloquent allusion, — the visual writing system deciphers gently an image by assembling it to several frames for creating that distinct connection, firmly felt amid the feelings of those sensations so well personified by intense emotions, which, if it could be put in a tangible practice would be useless, spoiling any signification for love's a stranger of our chic psychology

each day is irresistible when it's shining from your eyes inside my eyes, walking through one glance of the virtual world of yours and mine with everything that's happening here in these random circumstances of your being in my being, enough for discovering in any individual day the distance that's within us measured by the testimony of reality, — a reality with strong and timeless feelings brought by a poem or a song, — câline, (as i am), mannered, (as you are)

the shortest way, from me to you, is the longest road from you to me, — could be the reason for which happiness gets conjugated at the past tense; you may try any witchery; white magic, black magic, using certain tools, invoking spells, formulas, methods, and techniques, calling supernatural forces, will not channel anything; seems ridiculousness, but loneliness takes care to remind you, — the happiness gets conjugated at the past tense;

let it be like a sweet suggestion  for each day to be combined  with the seductive and the mystery  created by a fascinating image  inspired by the holographic icon  of a trance-foamed melody  in poetic notes for which  one loves to surround you  in the echo of the blossom roses

I threw myself in the bottom of my stomach to catch butterflies with the color of your eyes I've been waiting on you in a visual aid sonnet with an intense pretext of my emotion in yours There's no interlude. Desires have the potency to reconnect me to passion sound's sparks to not miss you

Psst… Do you hear me? Then come with that magic as I’m coming up with a song to not hash out the spell. Bring with you an easel. Love is in an arch of colors… Let me be tinted in pigments of its symphony. Paint my heart in the sounds of its beating. Make it visible. The poppy’s crimson use it on lips while on the eyelashes let it be the summer twilight. Put the appealing color from the magician’s aura which you are, on my breasts. Spread it to my other symbols… Psst… Are you still coloring this whirlwind of feelings? You should add even more another deep color… Use it. Use a little bit of the blue light from the glitter of your eyes to be able to recognize me in these infinite touches of the sky which’s breathing in my love through the music’s silhouette.

Kiss my heavy eyes of so much cried, for just your kiss, it could be capable enough to quench my gripped eyes by evil fire and get 'em filled, with love and shine. Kiss my mouth, — my lips are clutched and they forgot the  smile and word's  sweetness; with the serenity, they're gonna smile again and fall in love with you, exactly like at first. Kiss my brow as any miserable thought and any kind of doubts to die, — bonus to be for all my dreams, a revitalization out of the spring, — for a new life... 𓇼 translation‧‧‧ ©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p'tit je ne sais quoi ‧ chic… à ma façon

separated by a rectangle we're approached by music; in the evening hours,  synesthesia it's you, it's me and a glass of red wine a song floats through us balancing errorless our thoughts, majestically not in vain, we graduated the course of language, — …tenderly love in endless sweet colors, we're blooming joy; I am, — [lost-in-your-love] you are the… — [ K ]🎼

it's [13:13], — call it dreaming, call it relative freedom or call it architecture with changeable shapes that dances with my silhouette in infinite games chic boosted by your fantasies to the brim, — [love]

I would like to get into your dreams... — in those dreams genetically predisposed of being sober in the realm of happiness I would like to get into your dreams... — making them more beautiful, — at once

What can be done, when the soul is lead ahead of the seasons like if's a locomotive full of buds? What can be done, when the heart breathes the rainbows even if outside, the snowflakes are still dancing? Where to direct them, when the blood boils into the veins and the feeling is as if something stumbling them in a landscape with a wind of summer choked in some stalking gazes? Why when so many butterflies are flattering in the dew of the moon, the sentiment is as if are caught in a frozen light? How many questions are necessary when in me, you're already the favorite season out of thousands of dreams, and me, like a flake, in summer, in your arms, melted

your absence has heavyweight like a kind of kiss left out unshared it's like a clock that has the pulse always behind, [you], my sweetest thing

the most elegant goddess with her distinctively voice tempt you sophisticatedly in the jazz empire revealed through a mannerly context of the L‧O‧V‧E story rhythm brilliantly exposed for you ❝ I have thought about these songs for a long time. Being in the company of some of my greatest friends in music allowed me to tell these stories just as I'd intended. Sometimes you just have to Turn Up The Quiet to be heard a little better. ❞

It is winter. It is January. It is not a shrill morning but rather rheumatic. With whispers. Any kind. The whispers are expressing the type's wishes types sketched and tonified in the tint of sky's times. The time's matrix feels like a slice of a blue cheese with penetrating stench, making everything hide. It is difficult to see where your mind wants to go. So you look to nowhere, invoking mystic powers. In trying to get to you, I let a hypnotizing music play, hoping it'll find you, and you will send me a clue. It is winter. It is January. The radio waves cough. I'm still searching. Searching for a summer's sun. (summer's sun is you... winter's one is rheumatic)

I'm in as much as beautiful exactly as your love paints me. I'm in as much as beautiful exactly as you're using the grammar of feelings entitled in your mystery. I'm in as much as beautiful exactly as you combine slyly a smile impregnated in kisses. I'm in as much as beautiful as the most lusted, smoothened and hottest flavor enriched in selected ingredients exactly as you've dared to add them while you planned an escape to a tasty place for both of us.

❝ In the wave-strike over unquiet stones the brightness bursts and bears the rose and the ring of water contracts to a cluster to one drop of azure brine that falls. O magnolia radiance breaking in spume, magnetic voyager whose death flowers and returns, eternal a being and nothingness: shattered brine, a dazzling leap of the ocean. Merged, you and I, my love, seal the silence while the sea destroys its continual forms, collapses its turrets of wildness and whiteness, because in the weft of those unseen garments of headlong water, and perpetual sand, we bear the sole, relentless tenderness. ❞

The uncommunicativeness has fabricated the alphabet of silence, composing so the words from sounds, chic combined with mine and yours, plasticized in the inverted commas, because a title can be dotted with dots. When the scheme of the words gets to you, they kiss your lips, haunted in the nuance of a sinless flirt, blown through the murmur of a bizarre thought in the anticipation of some responses to the questions of my soul. Both our opinions palpitate in syllables, read and heard in some dialects written on the staffs with the echo's synesthesia, susurrated in the mirror of the sky, while you're in my mood, exactly as… eu quero, you, sighing out your fixation, elle et moi. “un coin d'une rue une enfant elle très belle très blonde quelque part dans la ville Elle et Moi un jardin tranquille un regard une étreinte un frisson des yeux qui se lèvent une larme qui coule doucement sur sa joue la douceur de ses lèvres Elle et Moi son corps vibre sous mes caresses nos souffle...

in a way known only by me and you, uh, we're going to love each other until the end of the time, and then, forever after, we'll build another realm identical with your soul and mine

The clothes were almost off… of her; Outside, — a tree… too indiscreet spies masterfully with any of its leaves to see her closer, closer… [it got gaped]. Perched, on my enormous easy chair, half nude, she clasped her hands. Her feet were trembling on the floor with that finesse, [a finesse as she is…]. I watched, — a waxed light's ray trapped into a tiny branch outside the window how's butterflying above her mouth, and up, over her breast, so pride and ripened. I kissed her delicately ankles. She held a sweetly brutal laugh which scattered into virgin trills  —  a jolly laugh so crystalline… Her feet hid under her chemise revolted said, — 'please stop it!…' But I laughed at her cries —  I knew she really liked it. Her eye trembled beneath my lips, but they've closed at my touch. Her head went back; she cried: 'Oh, really! That's too much! 'My dear, I'm warning you…' I stopped her protest with a kiss and she laughed, low —  a l...

if you're the shadow of a thought or the thought of some shadow, meowing boundless experiences, stripped in some melodic phrase around the fireplace of a season, set in a frenchy roof's geography, I don't know; (it's a subtle sketch)

by getten to know you, means, — to go in the setting of the soul, to open the folder, — [status], to check off — [the happiness], (and) to set the password, — [love] (anything else can be omitted) 𓇼 by getten to know me, implies, — to carry me daily in your days, to let my eyes' tempo be yours, to choose my time's destination, (and) to let my desires be your satiety [anything else claims patience] 𓇼 but to those who wants to know who am I and you, say to them, — don't try to penetrate through our invincible lupine component; don't dare, don't suppose, never, or our essence will use its shield; [we're passion never translated] 𓇼 y'see, we know people are strange; (try not being the one of those who ...expired before being discovered)

I've let myself drift through the poems of the sea and the blueness of some pianissimo sounds I got in delirium, surfing in their whirl, dreaming to see what you saw through any groggy dream I have shimmered thru all hazes and archipelagos of stars' winter, hid carefully in your celestial eyes so I can feel your touch touching my mystic scent, to sigh to me just a thought, — [i want you badly]

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...

I'm gonna love you as you are, — innocent… harmless… and… without too many questions… I'm gonna love you gentle… sophisticated… subtle… and tender… to remember about me until the next time… Are you laughing...? I'm gonna love you as you are... (I need you...) — (for…) (؟?) (for...) (forever…)

here I am, organic, fragile, timid, sought by your wonder-working in the foreplay of heart and soul, with the transparency of a smile at the rendezvous of thoughts in the voyage of music anthology, felt explicit in the vibe of a word, mine and yours, tacit wild thing

I don't want anymore our tempo to be interrupted by some outsiders all I wanna listen to is your very coquetted rustles caressing my eardrums everything else, the others can only dream will happen to them, — (it just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in), — a precious sensation, a yearning climax, next to a furtive smile, — yours, mine, jazzing up in a whispered touch like is today, ᵀᴼDʳᵉᵃᵐAᵇᵒᵘᵗYᵒᵘ‧‧‧

❝ Little rose, rose little one, at times, tiny and naked, it seems as though you would fit in one of my hands, as though I’ll clasp you like this and carry you to my mouth, but suddenly my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips: you have grown, your shoulders rise like two hills, your breasts wander over my breast, my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin a new-moon line of your waist: in love, you have loosened yourself like the seawater: I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth..... ❞    

a dreaming whisper, a tender sound, — [my soul sautéed] a few drops of honey, an exotic condiment, — [you bath in my fire] an amalgam of feelings, a hurricane of emotions, — [both overwhelmed] ₘhᵐᵐ‧‧‧ head over heels

«It's part of a sci-fantasy-transmedia fairy tale called, The Everything Nothing. It's about creation, fractured identity, and transcending physical form. Its orchestral tapestry of sound and melody will be worming the way down of your ear canal to the base of your spine through a mesmerizing short video where two soulmates are reunited in a multidimensional plane of existence». It's  Starman 

the winter holiday is here, the house is adorned with apple pie flavor pampered through cinnamon and with brioches smeared in honey filled with the suppleness of the bitter cherries dressed in fine chocolate well sprinkled with the holy myrrh of almond haunted by some gingerbread with a shiny collar of sour cream softened in the essence of orange and lemon exactly as traditional spirit asks and invites disguised among unstable smoked sausages steamed steaks and other goodies wrapped in cabbage and vine leaves spurred with the booze of gods while for the atmosphere to be complete, all got spiced with jokes, dance, and music in the presence of dearest ones even if some of them are near or far, — so have a bon appétit wherever you are, the love is felt... and is reloaded over and over, again, (if anybody asks you...) 🎄

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 🥂 🎄

Right from the morning, the childhood memories received a cool refresh from the snow queen. Jovial flakes rolled out from their crystal castle, a subtly silvery curtain for the child in me. Acolytes posed snow roses adorned with magic, applying me anesthesia with the festivity's effect. Delicately, their beauty surrounded me, to collect the scent of my smile with explicable emotions. Memories smiled at me. I smiled them back. Happy Holidays 🎄🫦

— How tall do you suppose a Christmas tree should be? — Well, I think it should be only adorned. — And then? — Then fill the glasses with a pompous wine. A princely one having the spirit of a gigolo, just enough to be a bit confusing through the scent of those delicious dishes that arouse some ideas along with a corruptible color for waking up contradictory tastes and flavors that invoke the freshness but also provokes you to commit the experienced sweetly sin sufficient to accept lucid and confident your ageless soul, irresistible and full of vigor craving for the special moment of this graceful, merry and divine day similarly like you loved sincerely and passionately using the charm of your spirit on the big wave, traversing the heart of yours, entire year... tchin-tchin🥂 🎄

smooth music…🎧 a sensual ruby wine, robust, having a carnal spirit palpation likened to the burst of cheery laughter calibrated in a pale light which invades the atmosphere of my soul wrapped in subtle veils of desired caresses by you, on my mind, – I, on yours, discussing some discusses, saluting the holiday 🥂 🎄

it's nothing but a blue moon sipped pianissimo with cognac in the abstract of a clepsydra it's nothing but a blue moon not a mentalist or a magician or appearances of some wizard it's nothing but a blue moon with many thoughts, touching each cell sublime until orgasm it's nothing but a blue moon but who's the moon and who's the blue, no one debated it has already been engraved and fulfilled agonistically to fly you to fly me‧‧‧ to the moon

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...

I'm going to surround you, invade you, and caress you fragmented, — phrasing, rounding, and mixing your first mood, whispered and glinted to me jubilantly. °.○ I will travel in your mind with my visions conjugated at past tense in your present. °.○ I'll make you wish to have been born in my moisture aura built with moments from a season with December's scent in endless debates and frisky flirtation and citrus and frost. °.○ I will nourish you with seductive words sculpted with drops of warmth with ice to keep a dual strong flavor, intensely and sharply draped with the tiny tender bites of a ravishing smile smelling of fable and bizarre longing with endless echo in the scent of an untied happiness. °.○ Happiness smells good. Happiness is me smelling of you. I exist in your existence to turn me on, to turn you on and on and on and on...

“ may i feel, said he (i'll squeal, said she just once, said he) it's fun, said she (may i touch, said he how much, said she a lot, said he) why not, said she (let's go, said he not too far, said she what's too far, said he where you are, said she) may i stay, said he (which way, said she like this, said he if you kiss, said she may i move, said he is it love, said she) if you're willing, said he (but you're killing, said she now, said he) oww, said she (tiptop, said he don't stop, said she oh no, said he) go slow, said she (come...?, said he ummm, said she) you're divine, said he (you're Mine, said she) ”