Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

the color of You… blurred the light of the moon, of the sun, of the sky, accenting drunkenness of your love wandering somewhere in a deep of the ocean, wearing peaceably the action of longing in a blue aura of the mystery I am, close and far, simultaneously in all your visions; ♡ the color of Me is a drug collection, [whispers, smiles, hugs, and kisses]

if you insist the dictum of love is religion, I'll contradict you, for indisputable isn't in the cosmic period of my present time where even contours of snowflakes see what I mean it... nonchalantly proving and amusing in games of the spirits, felt and used in the metaphors of each day, so well devised thru steady descriptions, portrayed by this agnostic soul of mine, fine demonized in beauty by your mind, characterized in a deeper love aphorism, met not just in lucid dreams but in truths

could you let the reality get deformed because — loving me, it's your dream, and loving you, it's my fantasy with all my smiles and giggles, synchronized with any moments since you met me, also, with all my lack of experience in waving your thoughts paid with lots precious attentions in beauty sessions of your inseparable emotions, coupled at the ylang-ylang perfume of my soul, and assimilated with secret's fineness of a message hidden in the unique taste of a me‧ta‧xa, explored slowly, to not get scared the kiss that's been longing a lot for our lips to talk fluently in lust's dialect vibing into the all undivided parameter found in the mage of watermelon sugar, winded in the torrential love chemistry

I take a seat, I have a smoke, chirping, I hear a hummingbird its sapphire sound intense I feel... it fills my soul until the brim but I'm a dream, nobody knows it makes me cringe that I can't talk

a song is an oeuvre looking for your lips to get in your soul and in your spirit with lack of scrupulousness, incited by incontinence of feelings unwritten at the best examination but rather gallantly and nobly, using simplicity which isn't but my key

like a belle muse, schemed and lured with the quill-pen, ends and starts the dream painted with the guitar's echo panicking our eyes and lips with the physique of passion, happily snowed and wrapped with the flakes of our lust, me ⇌ you, fusing in one desire, créme de la créme, love

your G is kissing my soles moistening them intensely the sky changed my coiffure making my curls look like rain the wind, sprightly and leisurely gazes at me, astonished and then, you blow up a rainbow using the magic dust of fairies tattooing me with your love;  

because is today, and my words are mixed with flavors of your wild sky, stuffed with lovely tiny little things brought stealthily by a wind's breeze, spiffed in the scent of acacia flowers with threads of the grass, trod gently, enough to feel a poem's connection about me and you… lovely pretty boy who loves me entirely and whispers artfully, – keep falling in love with me right as I keep falling in love with you

you placed in my heart a climate wrought with intensive cadences which are erupting like a volcano from the engines of my fantasies and the routines of daily pleasures offered by words tangled in times, in the swirl of any existing emotion breathed by the soul's atmosphere just to may I think of you as you are, the petite unseen monster of longing possessed...[pour le reste de ma vie] in the volcano swing, that's foaming in my veins with an absolu' passion inquiring, who's by your side... still

subjugated in the choreography of your love, it feels as if I'd be the metaphor of your life, painted in the colors of your imagination, lubricated to experience one fine day, daily, in sensations found in any pretext, infused melodiously through a kiss, as fiercely as it is your lust for me, with your lips pressing mine while my arms are caught around your neck, and your fingers are knotted in my curly hair, clinging me more tightly to feel the talks from your mind about chapters that are ambrosial when aren't said out loud but only bestrewed in one sweet and tender touch of our instincts ────────🌹──────── (psst...) do you still dream, [you & me, as one]

somehow, you achieved to turn up the heat in my soul by unwinding an incredible universe, well lengthened tween mysterious galaxies, [magnificent and imbecilic], becoming so, a fire on, up in all atoms of my very being, induced to feel you simultaneously my moon and sun, posed on a nebulous sky for no one suitably to discern the accurate intimacy essence of your grandeur to me

I set the blue, [blue‧deep‧blue], to become my skillful pen. Then I improved the ink  adding in its sap, a drop  of my blood, embrocated with witty bouquets and the scent of my thoughts. I set the blue, — [deep‧blue], to become a charming quill. And the moon and the sun  added playful stardust and a boutonniere, enough for spreading any day's joy for you are the freak in me I set the blue, — [true-blue]. Its power is under my spell every day and every night with the taste of sin for some, with the taste of love for me, good enough to get explored

the perception, me, you, the disappearing action yet my disappearing action isn't your perception, but a speck of miraculous dust out of the universe called love, a hereditary molecule from my DNA combined with the essences of all good addictions in encoded information just to tingle your spine

don't you see I'm burning with desire to see you? .............................................................................. to identify you in any of my fantasy all the best artists used their emotions the seductive colors of words built you to be my fire fine structured musical compositions melt me in you in real life with accuracy exposed on your face sketched by memories the verses of stars are in your eyes the lips of my inexhaustible blue tales are devouring yours; [you don't oppose]

to balance the imbalance of some days, verify your soul volume,— one portrayed and discreetly arranged by your heartbeat with the temperature of your blood and mad pressure of some detouring stories systematized by the texture of your mind to rise the sound speeds of my whispers inapt of uttering, I love you I miss you... to balance the imbalance of some days, ain't nothin' wrong to check once more the timbre and vibration of my feelings

peony buds blossom in my thoughts their delicate scent emanate through your eyes the sun, like a virtual luv3r, spreads velvety petals all over sedated, my lips narrate in the dialect of one million stardust cosmic words paint the skin of your dream in the hue of my shade your mouth tastes any part of me using the moisture codex of love Alien codex by The Wandering Caretaker

Any of my written pages cover you with my blanket of stars set in music's transparent vocabulary, noble adapted to show me the way of loving you for both of us, and to get lost in the poetic experience of freedom and the pleasure dialect fermented in the mystery of what we want to hear, so delish translated by our lips that love to insult any part of our bodies with fiercely and gently kisses, till we get lost in sweet translation raised and sunken in vulnerable feels of our dreamt clichés. But if you don't know why are you looking for someone to love, then any page of mine is blank, exactly like your endless cloud, cambered by your doubts and indifference, so able to defame any soul, by provoking it to scour and pick up the pieces.

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...