Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

The fingertips, silky, are wandering on the keyboard whispering your name in the silhouettes of numerals. The chances handle with care the parade of desires while shape of letters on my lips is getting appetizing. The messages are murmuring with a version of fear in the seconds waited and spent at the other end… I'm calling. I'm whispering… Dream, do You hear me?

Is it chocolate, the sweetness mystery of chemistry found on the lips, tongue, and saliva, sneaking in that spontaneous perfection assimilated as if it is the taste of a certain kiss designed for prelude? Is it the water something ardently, which releases you from stress and slips with gently capacity in any place of the body to grab a camouflaged aroma of that sublime pleasure cited every single day? Is it any flower, the flavor of a breath intensely felt in the language of longing among tender colors and those suspires of a song activated by that innocent sin of being more attractive and more loved? Because, the chocolate, water, and flower, music and the silhouette of some dreams have vocalized together at once, — I've Got a Secret, — Good, Better, Best

He runs with me in the marathon of dreams. He needs me. He needs his little blue girl, – Me. I am the one I got him bad, — bad means good. With him, you don't live for tomorrow. Simply, you're wild, you're free at superlative, so better don't believe anybody's rumors, just have faith. Days aren't identically and also, never as easy as you incline to suppose. His love is inhuman. He's not loving like a fool. He loves you, beastly. When he's looking in your eyes, you're melting. His kiss makes cloth be dematerialized instantly. His sensuality is in my existence. He loves me.

I can't be face to face with you, — and yet, I plunged with aplomb into the starry desires of the fantasy, letting myself be pigmented by rays of the sun and mystical symptoms of the moon, using the pen of your soul, to take daily your philosophy's shape, chic sketched out, according to your art of loving, emitted sensually through a daring posture of your scent, tamed with sweetened kisses, through all my senses... I can't be face to face with you, — and yet, inventive, I blindfolded your moon with my sunshine. I whispered to it, you'll find me. Subtle you did it. You found Me.

Orchestrated by airy clouds, the dawn is chirping with soothing caresses on my yearning's fantasy. My eyes are wide open, and yet I didn't wake still. What spell you used, what you put on me, or why, or when you did it, has no point to ask‥ Not at all. Under a velvety mask, everybody wants to be you, but you're not everybody's. You have my mystery. You've got the skill. Besides that, you're in control. Santa on the cell phone, bodied in my thrill, is you. You're all I need... since all I need isn't just love...

Like a child of the Moon, I'm zigzagging myself in a culture that you share every day, framed in a square, so attentively and so devoutly, and so visible everywhere any way the wind blows. It makes me feel as if I got you in any thought of mine, wearing proudly the mark of your love, smoothly and impulsively, mused for me by you.

Shhh… This is a privy conversation. A mysterious and pretty please kind. One between tender Moon and Sun. It happens somewhere far, far away in a bookstore of the galaxy, where the spoken language has the accent of their passion perfect symmetrically with the shapes made by scars of love and of their dominant longing. Carnal. This is a privy conversation. Shhh… It's not for watching it, but feel it...

the climate of my thoughts it's consumed into a kiss soft, long, wild, heavenly my mind invokes you with all arguments of lust thirsted as an empty pen your silhouette is contoured by my eyes, using their color attired in the outfit of love my breath is modulated with all whispers of your touches mysterious felt on my body you, sculptor of my thoughts, the climate you set in me

[we are...] words hugged in a soft tenderly sound of the calmness of an extraterrestrial blue with the perfume of an unheard flower acting in the color of a rosaline smile contaminated by love and mutilated in the garden of your dreams and mine, where it began, where it all begins, daily, for repeating the most powerful sentence articulated with eight letters of the alphabet constructed patiently by you in me, to feel you in my atom and molecule, — [an infinite playlist]

I'm not drunk. You know it so well. You scanned me. Every single night and every single day, — expected. You strangled every single dream, shutting me up... — clenched... — in the tricky mission of memories. I'm not hungry. You know it so well. You scanned me. With your lungs. Breathing me entirely. Abandoned amid playground love, anointed with all your lust, — in my venus absolute. Imprints of your lips are on me. Fixed.

Loving you is so simple, — nothing complicated... It's the artwork of the sky, painted by sinful thoughts into marveled sensations offered by hope's degrees which spring up instantly from there, till there... from so too late to, so too early, with your head in the clouds guided by words written and sealed by letters full of keys

through mystic labyrinth of words that briskly fly amid the shadows, it whispers love, togged in my suit, [hold-on, just-breathe, I'll-be-there] i'll be in the lucid psyche's essence led by unspeakable parlance, to feel composed as you were born surrounded by the scent of stars stars are infused in colors of the day, well propelled in your cozy gravity, while deep transitions of the fantasy lop about, in allusive phraseology…

Did we taste too much out of too little of what we offered to us by chance, or just too little remained out of too much when both of us, together, were piloting our demented love through supernatural? Questions many, come and's going out, but answers will be found, exactly when the nightfall marks the rendezvous with the first puff of dew, while the day's light comes to face night, when it's young still.

[ Always ], it is too late, or it's too early just to be loved, exactly as you love… time never seems enough to offer you the opportunity of meeting one who could unfrenglishlytheworld where you have caught. [ Therefore ], you win by losing your mind mixing the pain and joy until remains nothing you've got, just irritating thoughts, to the forgetfulness to give... — the love, one which  let you  never to forget of me

It's wrong to say, «often», when in fact you're coloring your words, constantly, in the hue of my dreams, provoking me to paint even the sounds full of passion and the silence of each hidden thought. Moments are flying with terms gathered in any instrument that breathes through the tones of my soul, enough to lay them on the velvety soul of yours, manifested every day in the chromatic of our galaxy. Without you and me, here we go, further, collecting any effect, proposed at the level of art with the opportunity for pigmenting all our senses, using the subtle tint of love, [red] – the loyal‧taboo, [blue] – as we are.

Bathed in the hug of your sun pampered by romped waves kissed on my lips by your stars in the existence of my dream wars of any thought get banal. .................................. In your angelic spirit, — I am an altar, — a mystery sculpted with your smile, with your gaze and your voice stuck in gravity of a delicate realm l'hawaïenne

I dreamt we got lost in a kiss. A pure psychedelic kiss inundated with the essence of our passion metamorphosed and positioned by the universe for our love to remain allocated in time as the best definition in all metaphors readable, sung and outstandingly watchable by everyone which K eep O n K eeping O n. I dreamt that dream got fulfilled.

I lit a cigarette continuing the game with memories of your untamed dreams when you've been for me the beggar and the king in my bed condemned at holy happiness in the empire of fantasy rising my body wanted in the sonnet of love, — ménage à quatre, the mistress of our match

a dream has woken up my dream to say that's dreaming about me a dream has woken up my dream where I'm dreaming I'm waking up and your lips are delighting my lips while your lust scans my bitings your eyes waving gleam in my eyes others to see in 'em who I am to you a dream that's love to me, it happens now…it is my treasure, my talisman

I wrapped you with my heart' rays, I washed your dark with my smile, I cured your timidity with my hugs, I wrote to you love with my blood, I loaned you the nectar of my lips, I left your sight to blow in my sight, I mirrored you thru any of my arts, I disturbed some, — [more or less], by aiming lust of me in your heart, I made you live and feel my pulses, by loving me thru all your seconds, I've been, I am, I'll be, forever yours.

I take a moment for myself. Here, I love you… The sky gets spruced up in an engraved attire with my thoughts spread in the light of yours for the stars to become shinier and the dreams to appear closer to our physical existence with my summer again in your summer rewind…

take it from me, you were with me all along metamorphosed in the rainbow of my mind with the colors of your instinct to touch me and to give me frissons with your chic attire on IIIrd cliff from the sun, — stuck in a daze full of mesmerizing ecstasies for both of us

to not sit around and miss you I conceived you out of verses as you never did to love me, yours to be over the centuries to not sit around and miss you, I turned to you my love tenfold forevermore me yours to be the morning-star of the first light and every night the veil of stars to not sit around and miss you all your dreams became the facts in such a beauty incarnated that nor a god has peace, no more to not sit around and miss you, every little thing and music invaded my longing smoothly painting my hopes splendid

I love you… 𓇼 I love you in the grams of my soul with the cadences of my imagination 𓇼 I love you in the degrees of my body with the liters of my blood 𓇼 I love you in the magnetism of my thoughts with the seconds of my existence 𓇼 I love you in light's intensity of my nerves with the pressures of the fears 𓇼 I love you in the climaxes of my fantasies with the authentic explanations 𓇼 I love you in the compositions of my smiles with irreproachable manners 𓇼 I love you zigzagging incoherently, thinking to stay to get back to the one who loved me 𓇼 in any metric system of the entirely me… — I love you…

Hey You... — I don't love you. I only fell in love with your words painted and spread on me by your subtle mind talented to make me feel amazingly, as if I am a prayer, invoked and implored by all your idols to all of mine... Hey... — you you you ... the one that's chasing lights, — I don't love you. I don't love you exactly as i was supposed to do, — credibly, rightfully, honestly, but rather like a candy cocooned into the midnight sun thru your smartly graphical reflection able to make me look fell [in love] when in fact, i was as i'm still, — deep into you

To keep you feasible, I substituted you under another form into a playful idea, letting your memories murmur to me, in slow-motion, [reach out, I'll be there]. The anatomy of your noble philosophy, I metamorphosed it in papillons bleus while my exuberance, a banal tendency, I let it talk with the moon and wildness. As you expected, all seemed easy, but I, (you see...) just now I got it... [just now]

my blood runs uncontrollable in your innate senses because any tiny or wide-ranging things are filled with dreams that come true when they wear the exuberance of the scent felt in the morning which is a coffee, sequentially served with patience's sips and ideals while castling of senses help to detox any tension in calmness of love and slowly pushes me to explore much further to a newer and real good feeling with you...

this very day, I stopped in a hurry among the verses of the sky domesticated by the poetry you are and I sang in the major key coupled at flowers' jubilee in nectar's tinge, just so, to feel you as if you'd be spunky feathers of a genius Kolibri

on the constellation of my universe, a huge query point gives an answer very precisely to a question asked, — please take care of that, — if it isn't over my head, shouldn't be on yours … on the constellation of your universe, all my stars surround you in beauty, me to be seen in you created again, — so i rose up in the same row twice and got memorized for the third time … on the constellation of both universes personified in an unsteady steady way we're a bit of something finely angled

like the shadow of a girl…on the Moon i have waited so long to feel the meaning of being your deep desire on a Saturday taken Monday maintained on a Tuesday costumed in an azure veil of a Wednesday tailored Thursday but initiated on a Friday in your eyes like a lithe so nonchalantly with irrefutable dimples of your longing…

Allo…? Zeus? Pick up the phone, — it's Me, the goddess of goddesses undomesticated but glorified and loved by you in such a manner that any grammar of any language couldn't be enough to express it for would-be stumbling in words anointed by saint myrrh of illusion in beatified memories collected in hiéroglyphes that are able to get decoded only by… (me and you…), in paradise, both amused to amuse any other earthly native that adores and idolizes with perplexed passion, to listen to the will of some SF love

I can't stop the time and yet, unintended, I remember You for you're not what you hide in aphotic side unseen, but what you've become through your own free will, throwing light to my invisible shape, sensible and mystic in your style invoked, in your air inhaled, in your water, sunk, in your visions, zoomed, you not to be dropped in bad magic spells or to be hijacked by my deep-blue mind, deeper than the ocean darker than the night...

On any cloud of the sky I wrote words to you with the angels' quill dipped in the ink of stars, using the letters of quasar created by my rainbow in the curve of your zenith On any cloud of the sky I got moves of the fantasy for the poesy you are, my muse of the muses, the lure of my demons the metaphor of metaphors the surreal of my realities On any cloud of the sky, it's been written by me whispers of the universe to you, — I Love You... I Love You in a way which doesn't feel human, for I am your passion's dialect

the rim of your fingertips through my Venus has the sensory system thirsted for ecstasy, to emit the Zenith vibrations from your body and to shape me in an unreal fresh eroticism somewhere by the river energy of your mind

like a morningstar, you're infiltrating gradually in my clouds, penetrating profoundly my yummy memories, making me smile while you feed me with your happiness wonderfully twisted in the glaze of pleasure carefully garnished with the shooting stars from where you are...

here we go again… feeling guilty as is any starved animal searching nutrients for whatever might feed the spirit quench the thirst, push loneliness and all fear away... here we go again, to french-toast with goodnight kisses ending as we started, frenglishly together, like mongrels

my tactic is — tactless, unfitting is — to fit some words, unseemly seems to seem discreet of indiscreet improvised and hasty, to love you well, — diversified, as is the moving rise of mine, — instantly numb, — not negligently, always... — sentimental

right now, you breathe again the words of my free time, — you know what I want... — you know like I know nobody's so funny like me in your mind gifted to electrify your fantasies or to surprise your imagination, — somehow, you're addicted to me, I'm an indispensable mad feeling in your memories, in your deeds, I'm deeply in you, not a name, — not a number but hours of stories never negated but only accessed

what to do if or when some aim you with implicit words and feelings, as if you're an eccentric color adopted out of blue as an antithesis of a bad woman… so different from what you're being considered but schooled to figure out one's lies what to do as long as you've been designed to be better than any best or smarter than any smartest or much beautifier than any beautiful or sophisticated, passionate, gentle, courageous or creative or to dare to be happier… than yesterday what to do if each beam of the sun is playful in your hair and the sky's color shines in your eyes, and you're scented with love, while the universe's vibration brings to light your smile, your hopes what to do if you show yourself to all but nobody wants to see you as you are [it cried out, the sky… watching me]

in which of your positions, I'm a disaster or a miracle… which of my hemisphere grows your pulse… 🫦 does it  make you react as if I'm bad for you, baby… so bad that only your lungs are able to remind you… (remind you), you love much to breathe my atmosphere

i'm contemplating, (with my sight on your sight...) at an absent hour when we chose to just relax a while i'm saluting your thoughts lost through a certain sea that's containing my dreams (so interested in you) i reconstruct an analogy about how I act, how you react when we'll meet; whose smile will put us under the rug...

every side of mine, it's your treasure map cryptographed well by my soul and mind there, without any hesitation, your temper decided to keep me hidden like an altar subtle, my caprices, in your wildish blood transfused, swim constantly inconstantly even if, each side of yours with daily tales spies the maps gifted with my luring smile

pleasant emotions flood spontaneously like a dandelion in the spring hungered of lips on soft lips, so good... — so-so, again as much real as the unreal composing a mood, painted, sung, dreamt, and spoken in contagious gods' language and the spirit of goddesses to flourish inside you an afternoon experiment; ‧‧‧ then another, and another, and I, clearly, have chosen to be a flashback, — you addicted

I heard all your whispers of love and passion with the fascinating schemes made by lyrics of songs. In the amalgam of shadows and lights, on sifting, I found myself to apologize for no certain reason, front of people I've never met or heard about them. Too enthusiastic, my faith in love got manifested as if it was touched by the gentleness of a violin set on your corner to make me look like a loony or as if I want your dreams to get wasted instead of protecting them to not be stolen, — or because you should see me in a crown incidentally classed. With this, I hope you understand any act of mine. This coup de foudre between me and you, it's the... absolute transition of my love to your nest, — alien

from now on, exactly as it comes, I'm going to kiss each moment till everything will vanish, and you and me, we'll dissipate, we'll not be googly anymore from now on, exactly as it comes, tales will rest in their own time costumed with your thoughts, which have been spread by each emotion we experienced about from now on, exactly as it comes, it'll be set, a different kind of love, perhaps a lucky love, for offering, what I am looking for in sounds, and colors, shapes, and mystery from now on, exactly as it comes, the fantasy in its new potency will be, just as it is, a joy, a tint, a melody, a touch, a feeling or a lust, confirmed to me, saint honesty...

when your thoughts are touching mine,  it's in a foreign language; even if everyone seems to understand it,   the truth is known only by me and you; our minds and bodies hold our secrets into a word equivalent to the mirage; it's an inspiration for us to don't give up; (i got you...), (you got me...)

❝ So many days, oh so many days seeing you so tangible and so close, how do I pay, with what do I pay? The bloodthirsty spring has awakened in the woods. The foxes start from their earth, the serpents drink the dew, and I go with you to the leaves between the pines and the silence, asking myself how and when I will have to pay for my luck. Of everything I have seen, it’s you I want to go on seeing: of everything I’ve touched, it’s your flesh I want to go on touching. I love your orange laughter. I am moved by the sight of you sleeping. What am I to do, love, loved one? I don’t know how others love or how people loved in the past. I live, watching you, loving you. Being in love is my nature. You please me more each afternoon. Where is she? I keep on asking if your eyes disappear. How long she’s taking! I think, and I’m hurt. I feel poor, foolish, and sad, and you arrive and you are lightning glancing off the peach trees. ...

like a fool, I dreamed of you from forever tired of watching me, the universe created a deep space just the two of us to be able of sharing each other our love instead of loving you I preferred to lose myself in visions of my own and instead of loving me you preferred what you still full time preoccupied of public opinion, our realm got reduced till it disappeared like a season and I loved you like a crazy, wildly and ghostly without understanding why and what happens and you loved me, too I've found out in a new spring, — you, gratuitous blue, — you, astronomic joy looking for miraculous in another limelight

somewhere... — someday... in an imprudent moment caressed by blue silence of the moon you'll recognize yourself in the waves of a friendship, a treasure hidden in memories exposed to find that solace... — my aim is to offer you the key... once upon a time's [all I've got]

with some stubbornly persistent illusion, wise and adequate, manipulated by you, a known unknown creature, who adores to be felt where unpredictability exists to play and serve simultaneously, my smile, pardoned in a delighting glass with tricky liquor, created meticulously to touch you at a present mind's hour, taken over from one of the pasts led to one of the futures, it's our universe that looks synonymously with some stubbornly persistent... illusion ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ an illusion of a longing lost, kept hostage on the groans of a blues, playing its thrills at a carafe, haunted by disinterestedness, but which has the ghostly love's promises glorified on an astral rug plaited with stars and the prophecy of the sun and the moon guarded by spirits of the seas and oceans to not get swarmed by the lie of happiness that has its address in the forest of hopes and where our thought is walking its game, ...an illusion of a longing lost, kept hostage