beautiful things

by 📍
When you feel tired... do you try
to hide in some beautiful things?

With gentleness, do you try to grip
to caress your scattered thoughts?

Try, let happy moments touch you,
to snap you out of any weariness

[I know I like to do as I wish to do],
[I love to hide in beautiful things]


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anytime of the year

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she wears the attire of his kisses, of his touches, of his comforts she's not naked, but covered entirely with the expensive suit of love (his love) (not of him) (not the other) are you embarrassed to get naked? she's wearing proudly this attire for she's been loved and she is still... (because...) and (any-time of the year) gratuitous, love leads 'em anywhere
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lovely

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Again, I woke up in my mind with you and your petite face, having the stench of a defendant with some uncertain sense. Again, with your pensive eyes, you gaze at me and manage, the whispers from your paradise as me to be transformed. Again, you've sniffed me and put me right to sleep, invoking what I wanna hear, me to be yours, profoundly and attentive. Simply like that, again, I am under your spell, an amateur, an incident, a song in all and any, or saboteur of a free soul. Again, so innocent, you morphed slightly in my thoughts, a symbiote who dips in me... perturbing (all my dreams...), (my judgment and my feelings), (desire… sex… and love...).
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you can't run

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good for me

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face à face

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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.
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tighten up

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I'll go on a ride through your memories. If I get lost, relax. I'll find the clue which keeps our spirit tighten up connected. If not, snap your fingers, I'll come running. Don't panic. We gonna straighten it out.
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satisfaction guaranteed

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his daily waking routines are to make me feel differently... i'm loved in such a manner that some can't even imagine ⋯ syntax and morphology of love is structured in the language of his feelings amazingly written in the chromatic of his desires ⋯ desires translated into equations, defined by exponents at powers of destiny, mine and his, invoked, to give him to give me a reason ⋯ a reason roused and formulated in an esthetic conversation, using the pulse of pumas, black pumas; (he loves me in many ways)…
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Can You Keep a Secret

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