[hush], it's the name of the longing [the ice cream man], it's the diminutive [dirty little secret], it's the dream's title [alligator], it's the protagonist lips will interpret, [when you touch me], caring to not miss [elements and things] choreography will perform something... [what I've known for a very long time] other characters are the stuff that will be fireworks and sweet hysteria, in me while you, amused, will ask yourself, — [what was fact, what was dream...]

If you try to love me through the question mark, better to stop; (do not). Nor even any dot upon the «i», on me, do not annex. With apostrophes, do not express yourself in presence of my eyes. Neither with dash nor with round parentheses. Hyphens, hiatus, or small abbreviations, the comma, or the mark of exclamation, or even if a semicolon will seem to you on your handy, use 'em without error. Instant. Give up on the corrections, suffixes, prefixes, and syllables. Also, at thous of interjections, numerals and anything in 'em. They are the proves that our love was written for being played and spoken only at plural. The vowels, like fruits, predicted by flowers of the cherry tree, and metaphors in discreet onomatopoeia will turn entirely our senses in epithets and ellipses, using the barbarous amour of both of us… as grammar.

❝ It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit in pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own. If you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another, to be t

with every hug and kiss diffused in my soul, under the cryptic word of my nom de plume, i designed each joy you painted in my mind, [why do you think the silence caught wings]

what kind of booze could get you drunk louder than life ```¿?

so, what would I do in your story, — you wished to know and I, using a subtle monologue, I replied to you tenderly, — tonight, — grabbed in my dreams' fangs, you'll howl delightful… in your camouflaged entropy, I'll be devoured… your extraterrestrial kisses will hang smoothly around my neck like a scarf… my dreams' bedding will love to exude our wild emotions your smile will explode as you'd wished, wrapped in blues-jazzy notes

dress me up____  with words¡؟ — with love؟¡ — with music¡؟ — with joy؟¡ — laughter is good —  with you؟¡ — details¡؟ — is our tint؟¡ — a 1000 times — much more؟¡ — a fantasy¡؟ — inflammable__

i know every time you go away, you try to recreate the reason which makes you stay with me; the beauty of who you are sings next to the poetry of who i am in any pictures taken by the sun

the whispers of nights tamed our silence pervaded in the conceptuality of longing that wear our dreams and desires allured by a feeling with the feelings of a feeling garnished with the deep call of allusions to stop the clock with the frisson of hope

the dreams trace nobody, — they're traced «if you need me, you will find me still there, where I was when you haven't needed me»

while we are fighting... i've already begun to think in what position we gonna make peace... happiness doesn't wear suits, doesn't make expensive gifts, but has two gentle eyes which you impatiently wait to see them again... when evening comes

❝ A lover knows only humility. He has no choice. He steals into your alley at night. He has no choice. He longs to kiss every lock of your hair. Don't fret, he has no choice. In his frenzied love for you, he longs to break the chains of his imprisonment. He has no choice.    A lover asked his beloved: Do you love yourself more than you love me? Beloved replied: I have died to myself and I live for you. I've disappeared from myself and my attributes, I am present only, for you. I've forgotten all my learnings, but from knowing you, I've become a scholar. I've lost all my strength, but from your power, I am able.    I love myself... I love you.    I love you... I love myself. I am your lover, come to my side, I will open the gate to your love. Come to settle with me. Let us be neighbors to the stars. You've been hiding so long, endlessly drifting in the sea of my love. Even so, you have always been connected to me. Concealed,

things were not going to get plan or conferred by some scheme, but rather to follow originality, attributed as you dreamed them (that's what I see when I see you) well-nuanced in a dream's color, exploring a dozen of feelings, so untamed, to get me in every... ...tomorrow, — (I think)… I think I will run inside it, (again)  ❝ Heavy wave's rushing in carried higher by the wind she looked down, she could feel her feet troubling as the mountain stood still Without looking, I can see colors coming out, from your skin the Moon is sinking under the sea that's what I see when I see you It's the way you talk to yourself that makes you different from all the rest and all the monsters deep down in the ocean tonight are coming up to hear you sing ❞

don't let me sleep, but let me dream just a little bit more, — caress me to wake me up... use that tiny, tricky lure of yours... — a bittersweet black fine aroma wrapped into a velvety steam touched... [with the savor of love], — my lips will moan with pleasure while with a kitty eye I'll be watching you... — cheered up...

the lady asks, — are you free? the gentleman replied, — I'm expensive! you should feel me   as i feel it

i take a moment for myself... here... i love you...

gently, touch me, — (as if you're blind) ride your lips, — (on my skin) arouse my longing, — (with your kiss) my lyrical whisper is, — (your love's escape...) (somewhere that looks like '50s)

you're the one who longs to peel me a grape, who sculptures with lips my body's temple you're the sanctuary of my devotion's stories wrapped in the veil of the songs I listen to you're the one who sniffs my flower's murmur so uninhibited in your sh*t out of love dialect you're the only one with whom I get a lovely day [et, bien sûr que si...] [je te kiffe de trop...]

Think of me as if you caress a shadow in the deepest fog whispering to the nights and to the days my name, but do it in the whispers of your whispered thoughts. From where did I come into your thoughts and why I came... why do you recognize me even if we didn't meet, why do you dream of me feeling me even if I do not touch you, don't ask yourself just whisper my name. Even the moon and the sun wait your whispers out of your whispered thoughts, — thoughts you have dreamed and you experienced them for I am You are I am You are I am You are I am You...

❝ I want you to know one thing.  You know how this is:  if I look  at the crystal moon, at the red branch  of the slow autumn at my window,  if I touch  near the fire  the impalpable ash  or the wrinkled body of the log,  everything carries me to you,  as if everything that exists,  aromas, light, metals,  were little boats  that sail  toward those isles of yours, that wait for me.  Well, now,  if little by little you stop loving me  I shall stop loving you little by little.  If suddenly you forget me do not look for me,  for I shall already have forgotten you.  If you think it's long and mad,  the wind of banners  that passes through my life,  and you decide  to leave me at the shore  of the heart where I have roots,  remember  that on that day,  at that hour,  I shall lift my arms  and my roots will set off  to seek another land.  But  if each day,  each hour,  you feel that you are destined for me  with

i traveled at the lips of your thrilling hour and i sat on the cloud of your heart when your longs' drops rained on my soul, i noticed the physique of your stress using sirens' voice as a password, i logged in the mailbox of your soul, for forever your unconditional love fitted chic on me setting some kind of wonderful romance

[you], you're like a star gazing to my gravity trance, pulsating in all 4 elements, — fire, earth, air, water, for you aim to purge my evilly sins by slamming them [on the length and breadth...] [on the high and low...] within the good vibrations felt in my smile, [aeonian], as i love you madly, [as you very], [sans comparison]

like a crane, I'd stretch out my hands in your direction to hug you deeply but I'm too afraid not to harm a piece of your dreams right when I'll play the blues for you  

remember, please... a dream...‽ — let's take a random one... (coco...‽)

preferred color, — the touch of yours in words combined from music brought by susurrus of muses to allow me to say, — your touch resembles the whisper of angels, delicately manifested into a part of me, where is impossible to oppose resistance but only to create visions of my own, with increased passions for making you feel as if I'd be everywhere

when did you plan to tell me, to declare to me confidently you love me; what events should still happen for you to be able to articulate, with subject and predicate, the word, — (love...) and finely to can relieve yourself of this burden of pride and joy

without any hesitation, deep in the night, you cuddled in the fountain of my heart happy there, you whistled and climbed up till the infinity column of my imagination excluding the tricks of shadows, I listen to your crystalline smile's footsteps, echoing i miss you... [how could I not?] i love you

About seven seasons are in you and each of them is filled with feelings and their thrills. Thereby, — in spring, you're a zephyr… first glance, first kiss, first ecstasy. The summer is the burning love of yours. When autumn comes the bedding gets a fix. It's winter when you're freezing me with your gaze. Forgetfulness appears to be the coldest season felt from you... and yet, more intimate and more involved, it is the season when we meet in dainty fancy of the poetry, —  how does it feel... as you can see, —  you're unpredictability

❝ ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you ❞

Anybody can tear you down for any reason and in unexpected ways by using their own inures, — treading you in their feet, and in the plenitude of your lovely mind and soul, (a.s.o), just because they miss the capability of joining in sharing something correctly. Their action is similar to an invalid, only for making others look as if they can never be loved while the truth is they're nothing else than pretenders, Pharisees hid behind masks for creating at least a feud between one to another, and most, for their own amusement. Not for nothing, you'll be blamed for anything you do just to feel cringed in all your behavior. Think. Thanks, life follows its own path, while they're caught in unnecessary spots and facts losing extraordinary moments out of this wonderful world. Music, peace and lovin' to all .

to write a novel about us could be an option; any memory is gonna gleam thru any future; would be as a dream that's rising at midnight to get a sparkle in any ray from morning dew; the ambassador will be a petite blue butterfly bringing bliss right when we're not expecting

A handsome. A handsome person is one who doesn't even know how beautiful it is.  If someone tried telling him/her about it, will not accept the compliment, because are awfully stubborn to self-perfection. And I don't mean physical beauty, because “dolly-woman” and “dolly-man” might be many, but it doesn't automatic confer the status of a handsome person. No. No way… A handsome person is one whose mind is spectacular in its sharpness. Gives shiver. Makes hair lift only by the simple fact of letting own thoughts be nonconformist, but enough to caress the senses of the other. The handsome one knows how to dominate your feelings, taming and preparing 'em to dance sensually for him/her and then to hold you so intensely as you to no longer want to escape from the grip of its charm. A handsome person is a rarity. So damn rare. A law should be given for being protected cos fascinates like no other specimen from earth. [of course, someone is in my mind…] It's one with that c