Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

Maybe this time tomorrow, hopeless to help myself, I'm gonna cheat on you with one... or with another, — cool off, you're not my first with a heart ripped, and guilt, it isn't yours but mine, having much love to give ⋯ Maybe this time tomorrow, I'm gonna cheat on you but what's the tonic now is the four-day creep, we're in, when I am yours at infinite, and you are mine, total; total in love, romantic incurable, hellishly passional ⋯ Maybe this time tomorrow, when some incertitudes will look for you, another's arms will cuddle you and with appealing lips will kiss you, while you will think to let a note, – (I'll cheat on you... It's not your fault...) ⋯ (narrates with broken hearts, a mistress, and a dude)

in the spatial pub of a dream, your time reserved the table, — music; the crystalline gestures of us are orchestrating the main menu; we taste a smile, but dessert winks at us, pushing the moment into a yum ambiance; we're admired by a hug and a kiss which do pirouettes on poetry's floor (...in the spatial pub of a dream)

I'm asking nothing for. I ask nothing from you, and yet... And yet, — if you would want, — oh, if you'd want to give, to me, what me, I didn't ask for, — perhaps, you will transform the sky into the sea, and sea, it'll transform itself in endlessly romance. ⋯ I'm asking nothing for, but if I were to do it, — would be about something like this... — ⋯ Give me the joy I give to you, and happiness, and smile. Give me the pearly whispers and the well-being spell. Give me the kiss I'm thirsty for, and thrills, and tenderness. Give me the dream you long for, but give it in the name of love. Give me the time and pleasure. Give me... (you'll hear me saying), (see you at night one of these days when poets' dreams dream still) ⋯ I'm asking nothing for, but if I were to do it...

Your dream gets in my dream whenever wants. There is no any other power able to control it. There is no prescribed mechanism to forbid it. The bewildering joy and the groggy happiness are dominating both dreams. Mine and yours... ⋯ The key to explore a dream in a dream, belongs  only to beautiful people. The rest can only hope. But hope is perverse. And botch the appearance. And sometimes, steps on everything, arrogantly, aiming for having even what wasn't meant for it. ⋯ It whispered my instinct, verified by all my souls which live in my soul and nourish my entire being. ⋯ All the souls of my soul possess their own source. Dream has its soul. Why do you think I dream‽ Writing, too... But so has the laughing. And so on... ...the Love. Why do you think I love, and I'm loved‽ Why your dream gets in my dream as it please···‽ ⋯ (giggling), (mysteriously blooming), (kissing... me)

Unblemished, I let my smile roving on the alley of the metaphors. Metaphors which, once, peopled one's shadow full of sensations. Sensations tamed and boosted with an implausible profile pic. Pic with the parts of its aspects lost in nothingness or joyfulness. Joyfulness with moving feelings, and thoughts wondering… why's‽ Why is late yet early, and why is far yet closely, on poets' boulevard. Boulevard accompanied by craves, gesticulating longingly, the passion. Passion of the nomad me and others, fermenting loves on metaphors' alley. Alley with paths to light and dreams, like a switch at the call of the love.  Love moaning,  — (let only music cry), (there is no medicine like the blues).

  I don't like people who introduce themselves as, — Devil... and... Angel.°°° ⋯ I learned to idolize me, myself, and I only. I'm monsters' terror.°°° ⋯ I'm born premature. I've independent-minded. Play as I let you.°°° ⋯ Right from conception, I knew I am the winner. I act as I am.°°° ⋯ Troubles pass me by. No one has power on me. I'm my own owner.°°° ⋯ I'm hero and sinner. Respect me to respect you. We might have some fun.°°° ⋯ My essence corrects if there's something on your mind. I'm life's elixir.°°°

What are you doing? (Read) . Different reading types. Have you read some‽   What are your passions? (Dreams) . Different types of dreams. Have you dreamt of writing‽ What to write about? (Questions) . Different questions. Do you have answers‽ What are you eating? (Moods) . Different types of moods. Have you tasted some‽ What are your pleasures? (Joys) . Different types of joys. Have you enjoyed some‽ What are you loving? (Life) . Different types of lives. Have you tried living‽ What are you to me? (Time) . Different types of times. Use it, use 'em, -  smart . What day is today ? (A day of smiling, dreaming, living) . Time does not change, love .

Known by you and only you, it meows some memories. Some, have flowers' shapes, others, look like diamonds. Some, perfume the dreams, others, drag you in shadows. Some, touch longings' souls, others, search for words' lips. Some, appear out of the blue, others, disappear in whisper. Some, just love humming, others are doing pirouettes. Some, embody your ideal, others tangle your universe. Some have sincere feelings, others, hover sporty in your air. ⋯ And some, and others, jointly, are licking your mind and soul. And some, and others, deal with the spectacle of your being. You're the hero of your smiles. Did you try to sort your wrinkles? They belong to memories. Yours... and only yours... Nobody can access 'em but you... only you, dear friend...

Here I am. Thank you. — (whispered to me the New Year). I thanked it back, too. ⋯ Involves only you to let bygones be bygones to fulfill your wants. ⋯ Don't let past trap you, or your fears to get you down. What self do, self have. ⋯ My wishes started act with the New Year's arrival. I hope the same for all.

I'm not beautiful. I'm not ugly. I'm better. I am that something which can beautify a moment you ask for it. I am a soul giving a word. I am what your mind is looking for. An emotion. I am a dream in a waking world. A waking world hungry for new. A waking world thirsty for life. A waking world for countless reasons. I'm something you might love. But I am something you could also hate. I'm that something that gives you the strength, to be able to do. I'm in you. I cause you to sigh of pleasure with reason and without reason. I'm proportional and inversely proportional to hope. The value is given to me by feelings. Forbidden feelings. Feelings given by memories. Original feelings. I am the adventure. I am the figment. I'm everything. I am the number — stay wild. I bring joy when I appear. I bring joy when I disappear. I am the new year. Honestly, the future looks like wow. Make your wish list. I challenge you to conform to it. And by the way, — My name is ...

My time has its residence in the universe of love. The access is assembled with the delight's materials. The domicile is hospitable, built in the joy's mannerism. The scent has something of the first stage of winter. On the list of its invitees, age is ageless. Just energy. Dialect of the present tense, it is its only way of talking. Wishes are fulfilled as are felt their vibes, (confident or not). My time, inexhaustible, is now. My facts will talk about it, later. If I'll be wrapped in your arms for Christmas, time knows. Noel Avec Toi is already prepared. My sharing traveled in your time.

Today I rejuvenated. My face is mine. My heart has its own heart. The silver-white hair's coiffure shows a few strands of my golden blonde. My soul has its own soul. Today, my whole being cries out with joy. And it whispers. And it laughs. And it loves. Love loves to feel me in love. My beautiful face is even more beautiful, beautified by a few wrinkles. My body has a body. Lively. Firm. Supple. And attracts attention. All the looks. And my thoughts are realistic. My journey has the journey. My steps lead to success. My everything shows the value. I radiate the elegance. Today, my life is reformed. On this day, like every year, I am again originally reborn. More beautiful. Newer. More successful. I'm the energy. Today — (D13) — everyone can feel my true smell. Jasmine. Magnolia. I'm emanating a suave perfume from my every molecule. Today, I am embodied in happiness. Everyone around me smiles. Their thoughts and feelings smile, too. Dreams are alive. I live them. I give ever...

I don't give advices. I do confessions. Abstrusely gracious ones. Accordingly, I'm divulging, like this, some circumstances that happened once upon a time. Some of them have been succeeded to be managed, some, comme ci comme ça, some, not at all. The important aspect I wanna mention, it's that everything I write is shaped with the visions' elegance. Metaphors and personifications are home. Music loves to be my ally. And because of ⋯ «what if», ⋯ the portal gets open. I walk in any dimension I want to be, using a touching accent, — friendly, aggressively, or both. Suddenly, the crumb of the truth gets lost through some fancy-shmancy thoughts. I'm sensitized by a susurrus in its trying to guide my senses. Sometimes they're fluidized, sometimes they're opposing. Due to these, the reader can sometimes read between the lines or is led where his mood take him. I don't give advices. My words love to be attired in the sensuality dimensions. Adore to be tailored ...

instead to love me, you adore to dream of me... [...i'm your sleepless nights] ⋯ quietly, my mind's nails are scratching your soul's wound, 24-7, — my name's your blood type ⋯ your imbecile thoughts rove on my emotions' skin, — you haven't chance to cure ⋯ ...the night's fine ankle, shows itself at the same hour, bringing romance scent ⋯ ...i rouse you suavely, — don't speculate anything, — i'm 404 love, – your risk ⋯ i'm sparks, – [in your wants], [i'm the smile, – framed on your lips], — [i'm your wet whisper] ⋯ spoke from shelves, a book, with no kryptonite but charms invoked with, — [tales' spell]

in an old castle... (i live), — my room is lit with fairy tales; look closely and you'll gonna see it in the side of twilight wing ‣‣‣‣ since i prefer not show myself, people keep thinking i'm a witch; no one has any faith in me, yet, i persist on fulfilling their dreams ‣‣‣‣ i am the daughter of the stars, i shine on every sky of everybody's souls; i speak in dialect of hopes, my voice is painted in velvety accent of love ‣‣‣‣ i wear most shiny vestments, sophisticated powdered... in warm and sweeten tints; saw by some, some counterfeited 'em to use 'em as costume of Halloween ‣‣‣‣ in an old castle, (not where i live), but where people aim for the heart of one i'm not

Have you heard the news? It rains! It rains with curses toward the sky, It rains with war toward the angels. It rains with reason, and no reason, scary, and toxic, and verbal abuse. Have you heard the news? It's fury! Fury, and old and new and blended with undefined labyrinthine rigors. And motivated, and not motivated. Fury of some toward of other ones. Have you heard the news? It's love! Love that dies multiple times a day. Love attired in deep hate and agony. Love that's desperate and famished in women's, men and children eyes. Have you heard the news? I did. I do. I watch perplexed at any TV channels. I see an angry one yelling to others, while deities' rays light up in darkness with aim to shield a realm from monsters. Have you heard the news? It's about people... every kind of people.

i love... (without disturbing you), i love... facile... (in music's secrecy), thinking myself, — (maybe it's your pleasure of being loved.... like this...) ⋯ [a bizarre dream that sways into my astral skepticism] ‣‣‣ i love... (surrounded by the dreamers), i love... (through late bloomers' field), thinking myself, — ⋯ (but if you are... a fragile kind, who did itself a lair...) into my mind [as if it's there, your medication, and your dose, my constellation] ‣‣‣ i love... (without to beg attention), i love... (into my thought's thought side), thinking myself, — ⋯ (but cos you're dreaming, you'll accuse some nonchalantly aberrations...‽) [whose medication is in whose pleasure, whose skepticism is in whose dose...‽]

...an unmistakable scent is breathing my thought right from the first sing of a flamboyant rooster; ⋯ it is autumn's copper win-o in an aired fruity honey tint winded in smoky pastrami, lurking slyly at my window; ⋯ gifted by a heartquake, my eyes got wide open and my mouth salivated in childhood memories; ⋯ instantly seduced, i'm urged to take a walk to the fair, to savor the season's treats and do a new, indelible day; ⋯ inviting, life plays with me, feeding myself with p'tit joys to chase away daily issues into nowhere, into no mean;

i placed on my lips the hate color ⋯ on my skin, i placed the putrefy scent ⋯ i opted not to talk but to curse, and ⋯ i exposed myself in most nasty stand ‧‧‧ i ate garlic, beans cabbage and raisin ⋯ my breath didn't smell of the tonic and mint ⋯ i farted and laughed offensively naughty ⋯ i tried everything just to spread repel ‧‧‧ and the love didn't run, but quite the reverse ⋯ has been happy to live in my evilly evilness ⋯ it enjoyed finding i am in bigger shit than it was ⋯ ...conquered when it saw i'm not flawless at all ‧‧‧ so what you and i already know, at love's ears, the woman in me murmured some famous quotes ‧‧‧ “love me at my worst cos at my best, everybody can”

my longing for you has hemorrhage; it bleeds with love to abort soul's pain; feelings are ghosts through the night; sun and joy take me in a forgotten realm; rest of me comports natural for a fall's day; [i murmured sweetly for dawn's dream] [...its crystalline dew kissed my morning] [i woke up, smiling]

The sun attacked my windows. Has own fancy to see what I do, — if in some way I still miss you, or my feelings got lost a while ago. 🌞 It's a joy's room all over my head with the scent of life's bouquet. I access it, at intervals, a little bit, as if I'd have with it a chouette. 🌹 Its music borders me modestly. Its lips are overlapping with mine. The red kiss, not old, not young, has a rich taste of a playful wine. 🍷 If the sun has noticed any answer, or its scintillas sent you a frisson, if my fiction operated on you madly, stop checking yourself... just enjoy.

i am the one who has the diploma in not to be an option to nobody 𓇼 i graduated discipline of being authentic chic and, — a bizarre laconic 𓇼 on the brevet is written, — i'm not an easy friend on the contrary 𓇼 i'm qualified to qualify you to be, and lost and found, using chicaneries and the fiasco's rhymes 𓇼 some grin, some laugh to hide their failure, — and that's tacitly pitiable but also very typical 𓇼 i listened to, — ⟮accidental...⟯ at banal coffee time, the whispers of the life

...the present day came equipped in the day of yesterday, as if it's gotten back for more, to perform in you, — [you...], [my naughty dream installed at the sun's extremities] ⁂ furtively, i looked at it, puzzling itself in its own love, embellished with the beads of the moments, lived at the neck of thoughts, while it studied amour's ABCs, [and...], [and timidly, the present day has stolen me a smile] ⁂ in a flash, happiness wings grew gently from my soul in my chest; the insanity of impatience began to waltz; emotions knew they're translated by no other than you, [all in all…] [all in all, romance language intimidates, whatever day]

i castrated the rancor of some people, applying to them without hesitation, the sensuality of flowers' tranquility, letting 'em perceive just my bouquet 𓇼 tempting crust and core of my smile, i tinted it with the belle spirit and soul of the words' simplicity, to nourish joy which, like a corset, belts their thighs 𓇼 when the sky's light is tousling beauty, my eyes linger on its savory message, – life, robed in the attire of poets in love has the calling to never let you down

the morning ran emotionally wild, and me, i've had a mood to whistle, probably because of the pipe dream that ended with... passionate kisses 𓇼 the midday, to stay awhile longer, it wished for some naughty break, probably to smoke the sensations i live 'em when mind flies... [a bit] 𓇼 the night looks trained, but it isn't, once that's inside, my love reacts, like a time bomb, i blow up desire, probably because... i love you a lot

(in love), — the dawn's romances sent to beauty sleep, (the poetry), which I composed it… (last night) 𓇼 but if you'll feel some thirst for it, sip its whispers spiced in passion and decanted in my inviting verve 𓇼 if it tends not to catch the message, let your heart roll the dice, to find poetry's idyllic sculpture twinkling 𓇼 it's chiseled with the desire's breeze, and satinized in the sea's pigment at the hour of our vulnerabilities…

the longing's light is on, — about an hour will let me lounge; the mental pictures urge, — i'm faced with all you'll do to me; frissons and butterflies rouse, — my eyes utter what mouth can't; in love with the present, — the moment lives me, i live it, too; your joy was to please me, — nightmares are fond memories; orgasm tacit in unison, — you smile, i smile, — sleep tight; ⟮my p'tit je ne sais quoi, allured in the poetic Stockholmsvy⟯

you metamorphosed the velvety morning rain, and slipped smoothly at my bedroom window, — [a place very intimate] 𓇼 an aggressive sun's beam has surrounded you, making you evaporate, — i woke up... moistened... [the dream knew... why]

to empty out my day-long tension, furtively, one of your piano fingers, gives care to my moans' physique, crayoning a work of art on my lips 𓇼 carnal, your tune unveils my body, laid to be explored, to be updated, in your cookies, with your crushes, [is in the mood for player's sound]

like a waterproof lipstick, i'm carried on your dreams' lips... everywhere... i'm exploding with savor, — i'm the marvel alchemy you long for... and my love for you is chic... sits tight hidden in plain sight... everybody sees it... but, — nobody knows what or who you are... not even you, the mystic one who hums my name each day and night so... who's the liar... what's the lie, — the love... or what i hide...

my ears breathe your whispers my soul talks in your heartbeat dialect my mouth listens to your eyes' sound ⁂ in a flash, my mood blooms, diffusing, — [mixed emotions] ⁂ i'm uttered, i'm smelled, i'm viewed, i'm lived, — [everywhere] ⁂ inside, outside, carried, by you, — [disparate madness] ⁂ dreamt, waited, unforgettable, by me, — DeepBlue‧‧‧ paradise

my lips, pressed tenderly by your lips, have generated in a flash each of our conical junctions unimpeded, desire was expressing itself, flaring me with its absolute, making you leak inside me the moans, with slippery, divided tones were never missing, — have fulfilled our music-sheet

i invited discreet a mysterious dreamer i philosophized about ideal and fiction i felt suddenly a gentle tactile contact  i fell in love with a flawlessness i suspected such one doesn't exist who's able to love you like that… and… [mysterious] and… [dreamer]

you, — passionately gazing invoking me quiet you, — starved after my thoughts' continent you, — negotiated longing, owning merciful tenderness you, — choreographing abysmally my best self you, — love me like nobody else

moon's lusts swarmed (on beggars' lane) it wanted to be loved, — (it succeeded...) sniffed only a good lovin' (in the morning) since then, got deepened (in my dreams' maze)

in her dream... she was fish (an anthropomorphic fish) her feelings were the tides, rippling on the ocean side her home looked like a shell, aquaplanet called her, Pearl how to not sink to that dream when all treat you as a queen

i'm not humble and kind at all, — why do you think i ported my sky on the translucent membrane of your eyes...? ... to force you to (dream), (dream), (dream)... ⁂ beautiful memories have the skill to bandage up your soul's tegument, enough to see the microscopic light hidden ineptly at your mind's edge... ... (i'm one-of-a-kind beautiful and one-of-a-kind memory) ... (macroscopically) ⁂ can you filter through a rusty sieve the best days out of a week...(?) (i'm curious to see the look on your smile while you try doing it...), (doing the effort to groove me in your sureness) ⁂ with the serenity of the sea, fix your eyes on my eyes captivated by your fantasies (hmmm, — do you still cherish what you see...) ⁂ your diabolic mind created a journey, — this journey pushes someone else's thoughts to some possible destinations for healing the deceitful promises of tomorrow (to force you to wake up), (wake up), (wake up) ... (in my beautiful world) ⁂ the production line o...

 your longing mushroomed in the forest of my thoughts, giving some frissons, pushing me to lose control like in telenovelas... ‧‧‧‧ (desire of breathing love demands extravagance) ⁂ (your lips breathe my bloody lips) ⁂ (the crazy love's breeze reaches out everywhere) ⁂ (your smile wants driving me crazy) (how much d'you want from me, baby?) ⁂ i searched for me in your thoughts, — i didn't find myself in there… at all

every chance I get i look for you in memories 𓇼 the thoughts' lips burn‥ demanding to be kissed... 𓇼 next to memories lay lust‥ wants the entire fairy tale 𓇼 words get suffocate‥ grope in longing's wounds 𓇼 how many seasons expired while hopes lost their shine 𓇼 like a coup de foudre questions jet into my mind 𓇼 i feel the color of your eyes smiling at me, clandestine 𓇼 your dreams roll down here, where the talk doesn't exist 𓇼 the poetry constructs you as it wants‥ (lovin' you‥)

do not disturb... still, — love has been on ATI, supervised and very well cared each of its breath was controlled, — every part of its body, likewise its blood's microns were oxygenated too, — has been in good hands... life's lights have yelled invoked love's holiness traumatized the lethargy chased away darkness revived it, reviving me...

love is the innocent student... pain is the lesson... — a frightful weapon, it's human thought... — you see, — Albion friend... — your name floods my brain deeply... it has got to the intimated point where the longs shine a light... — (a smile 'tween some "lessons"), (you know i always win...), — i conquered even you... didn't i... — not in vain the joy tickles you... these days i loved myself only... — my being needed combustible... (tones...) (to love you better...) (to want you more...) i know you waited very, (again) to hear me saying, — (i miss you...) (while i miss you still)

slips my words' soul on writings, too terrified not getting sickened, or as the preventive bodily cure in any random premise could it be ✳ in any random premise could it be is for honorin' myself for what i am, in everything i live, see, and feel... – like whoever tactful human does it ✳ if a tactful human does it nonnative, as me, who uses a wishful zeal's ink and the magic crayon which pivots dream's fire to which i belong, it's okay ✳ dream's fire to which i belong, it's okay to may have some fake or loud reason, to may soothe or invigorate, or alike... to be like an inviting dance or music ✳ like an inviting dance or music, i write today... (not as you know its meaning) but to explore again your kimosabè role, – my naif, do I run thru your nerves still‽

your love grafted my soul with surgical accuracy of a kiss enameled with palladium's gaze of your bon-ton mannerism how could i've been predicting i'm gonna lost in poems, with you in my mind... flying unseen while i will carrying... love's torch how could i've been identifying my love for you is a flaw, a sin... which didn't fit anymore on the skin... of your dreams... how could you've been framing how this love works... nobody knows... (nor you, nor i) how could we know how it oars

 ugh, you, – my incubus lover, i'm surrounded by ugly souls 𓇼 through their veins flows pus, unfurling up a mephitic smell 𓇼 their gazes suppurate dislike while their smiles are putrid 𓇼 thank god, my flower garden reveals perfume and colors 𓇼 and birds disperse their music, and your imps chase 'em away … ugh, you, the word of my word, sing to me... sing to my desires 𓇼 embrace, embrace my dreams, dreams credible and incredible 𓇼 travel, travel in all my missives chronicled to you by my future 𓇼 there, joviality bears my name, i'm the one who fulfills wishes 𓇼 there, the light of each shadow stimulates the shadow of light …  ugh, you, – my incubus lover, word of my word, – i call you

you loved, and love me, very godlike... (my love...) you never touched me... (but neither god) you've never shown in front of me... (but neither god) I never heard your voice... (but also neither god) and yet, you do miracles... (exactly the same as god...) ⁂ back at it... over again... I'm not religious... (but neither god) I swear... I'm born of love... I look divine... (I am the sweetest sin... of god) but if I look for you, who am I looking for... (nobody knows... not even god...) I don't complain, I'm loved... (godlike...), — I'm an abstract in your mind who urges you, — stop playing god, show up yourself... (sin wants to know who I'm in love with...)

the sun flaunts its radiance on me, the wind is caressing me timidly, the sand is kissing my soles' skin while your sky echoes in my eyes with intangible kinds of memories, syllabling, (i've-come-to-love-you)

If you dunno to conquest anymore the someone's heart, ask ChatGPT; maybe like you, the other person asks the AI what to do to boost you. You want to eat but dunno what, enumerate what's in your fridge; the bot will do you an instant list or even more, till you are pleased. You don't know or you don't want, will lose in your brain the contrast; no problem... you've got the Bard, you're not a tricker you are stupid. You chose to renounce to yourself, at anything that makes you human; what does it matter anymore when you lost your own connection with you.

joy comes when I bite madly out of life, juicy like a peach, filled to the brim, to look like a balloon made lusty sandwich with the body's bread baked in mind's jungle, (mine... and his...) happiness is felt when the lips, (mine and his) whistle dementedly thru eyes' intersection, luring the traffic lights of love's gravitation, to create a beautiful day while respires the moans as we get consumed

stop; don’t try to divine anymore some answers generated into a day... (of whatever's tomorrow) if the thoughts slipped out of the brain box but got treated as if they weren't well-packed 𓇼 murmured, out of the blue, the wind's whisper, trying to temper me, melodic… (just a little bit) with the drastic formula of a sensitive topic about the one who has a chiaroscuro intellect 𓇼 intermediary, music flows, inviting rain to laugh (without modesty), in my boundlessness, which owns numerical superiority in any adventure of the truth, while it dances with else's delusions...

slowly, my thoughts' wings, flap before landing in your senses, — [that's why you feel some thrill] how I move, it's an impulse kind that cause you to think of me, — [awol, some think you're scatty] music you listen to isn't by hap, isn't irrational directed to you, — [its aim is to get you next to me] y'know that thrill that makes you look like a scatty one... well-well, you just got how much I love you

as I did it before, but not knowingly, in your love, I surrender over again; the stars' nectary are your words and diaphane touch, your perfume; infinite miracles recite your soul and fruity passion, your dreams' sap; veils of melodies are your chic smile ripened in my thrills, night and day; a wondered vibe is your good night, and bubbly wine, your mornin' gaze; your love, held me, holds me and will still hold me, between your lips; now hug me, kiss me, take me home; home is you, in my dreams, sure thing;

the kisses i saved for you I metamorphosed 'em in poetries some of them I anchored in garlicky standard environment that's why all feel drowsy and can't jinx us with their evil eye that's why they disappear with their malice in own malignity that's why we're fallin' in love daily at same frequency of love that's why no one can guess who's this you who's loving only me

young soul, spirit buoyant, cocooned in explosive attires, — i am illustrated in feral content, chicaning in feathery words, — i'm felt no wonder my poetry is me, gesticulating, here and there, — natural that's why you recognize me when you read it; i signed it, — into you you fade in my poetic number, with… (un p’tit je ne sais quoi) i do you

the character of today has, some spring floral touch, draped lightly in a dash of smile, acidulated with a peck kiss marked in a bluish growl, to seduce the wait and the dreams to sway, lovely… in some other place, just the two of us to play

costumed in winter's attitude, the sun impressed me with some subtly minty scent foggy skin of a visible horizon, showed itself toward me as a crown's pearl of the snow bathed in some hotting speech, the air hums in subtleties to give me your eyes to dream

the night has shown some smile of yours mirroring it quietly thru a window; nobody looked at it; i moved it in a dream; dream is entitled, (once in a blue Monday); glancing at it, the moon felt proud; it loved the tactic of screening your smile;

Even now I can call your name as I pen, naked as then. You should read me just the same, shouldn't you…? Cos apart from that, how you'll feel the scent, the gaze, the touch, the breath, and the call of my words…? The free words, colored words, and words full of longing. The stuttered words, sensual words, and immoral words. Lured palpable, this is how I feel trying to send words' lips to kiss your lips, while words' fingers slip on your body… With a tender massage of words, I comfort your mind, while the moans and onomatopoeia, tickle your soul… All seasons and words' climates create an atmosphere. A song completes how to listen to me and vision me… You should read me naked, just the same as I'm writing, invaded in instinct, compressed in dreams, squeezed so… (feeling fondly your mouth on mine, your fingers slipping wildly on my body, consuming me… in passion's howl) (as i write now, naked… as then, calling out your name…)

my eyes get moving along with anything displays the night, — (a song, a pic, a story) gazing at it, looks like a bazaar of surprises, blazing many profiles, (unique, or just so-so) one of 'em seemed as if, furtive, it's stalking me; i even swore were you, but what to see it wasn't (equable), i winked at you, thinking you do the same, but wasn't time to see, cos in a wink, night flew