honestly, I think I lionized you on a pedestal too high; loving it, you did it too to yourself, without any shield of security, otherwise, how am I supposed to explain the cause of yours getting in free-fall and putting me in the position of wondering if it is wrong to stretch my hand to help you, or if it's seriously bad to want to.

the manner I love it inspires birds to be coded distills light of flowers to grow up my dreams entire you to be wrapped and folded with them and any emotion to be assumed and balanced all your love's choreography to pulsate for me

in the canyon of sentiments, music conquers you through genus of its species as if she is the one which is listening to you…

magnetic, — nonmagnetic properly, — improperly constantly, — inconstantly at least I love you, — I do... I devour you silently, honey

Life looks like a carousel No, it didn't get me dizzy. Was just barely warming. Your majesty, another tour. And please, don't stop. As a privileged one, my inner feelings are a tribute paid in coins with the taste of colors, music, love. It's an entire patrimony always rewarded  with a ravishing smile of the woman I am and of that little girl hidden inside me...

timid, it glided smoothly the district of my gaze on your pent-up beauty chambré, dreams' lips, have braked in a flash above your poem's lips warmed, the tender view on the tread of this thrill began to gurgle an opus all that will be is written as music dances with life, as i am dancing with you

She always cut their sandwiches into triangles Monday, exuding a damaged angel sigh… Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, were the shifts of the others…

Velvety fairy fingers, — mine's °○◯ Tight waist, nectarines bust, — my seductive appearance °○◯ Fine gold threads, — my ankles °○◯ Charmingly crystalline, — my laugh °○◯ Slithering smoothly lust, — my lips °○◯ Love in my eyes' colors, — the one I belong to °○◯ I'm not a saint... I'm better, — I am his… forever °○◯ elixir

— What do we need first  for our sins to be forgiven? — Firstly, we need to sin. — And after that? — Just spread up the love. I got all You need. I got You.

On the tiptoes, slyly, without looking back but just scrolling down, we’re going forward through one diaphanous steam. The breath, the eyelids, are wrapped up like at the beginning of the world without having burdens, without nothing, but just moving ahead, guided by the purity of light in pictures of any day. The paintings are shaped with sounds. The brush seems more that’s comforting us rather than giving us colors… by playing so tenderly with us, with a thin fog, with steam, with a black and white, where time doesn’t exist in the morning galaxy, but just a 6 am & do it again, instrumented with the fire in the heart in an equitable tint of the transparency. On the tiptoes, slyly, to not shaking life, we look to find ourselves for not wasting a classy love under a deep feeling that unfolds without being rather than be, in waiting for falling stars, for making happen, for taking a fragment, which even if is there, it’s perfect for being held, and to look almost like a happy time th