a mad love [alone], — passes quickly, but just the two of us madly in love, — [never...] [seems we baked the love... for good]

today, the sky's skin mirrors poetry's anatomy of some souls, vested in the lights' vestments those souls could be mine and yours, blandly running to the sea to debug a joy hid in time data of those souls support us to feel that fire freeing the caressing range of love's overture [i might fall in love with you… but would you?]

I'll go on a forced vacation from love in a place, somewhere, at the end of an era. If you'll try to recreate me in the shape of your fiction modeling me in deaf sentences and old letters used by gods and goddesses, I'm gonna feel it. After all, I paid a price in the coins of dreams for my innocent love, you sacrificed.

Under the influence of the moon's breeze, You, — ʸₒᵤ•you•ʸᵒᵘ, you metamorphosed me to be the whispers of stars properly orchestrated by your wildish thoughts, making me look like a tableau vivant out of your preferred shade of the abstract, as if we're meant to be metaphysical as one. Under the influence of the moon's breeze, your incantations appears organized, whenever, wherever, and in any way, provoking me to create additional names to love, — our love. Under the influence of the moon's breeze and of its charisma, I invoked its power to lure you inside my unpredictability for your name is now, — give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain.

On a banal day, everyone you'll meet will tell you, relax, it'll pass away. But nobody will say how and when. Me, like everybody, I'm gonna tell you, — I've been there. I was confronted with a situation similar to yours... [almost...]. Didn't you feel first an indescribable pain that ran through your veins and blood, and all your being, working like a symbiotic, trying to transform you into something else, enough to be able to face fighting with your fury, with your weakness, with every fear that you've been thought that's well hidden? [surely, you felt it... surely, you've been transfigured...] If somebody will tell you that understands you, believe not. It's far to be similar to something lived by others. You have to resist not to lose your mind. Hold on till will appear that bright day to wake you up. Once awakened, you will observe you have the same look outside, but inside you'll be different. You'll be much stronger. You'll have a n

in my thoughts, your hug bloomed on my wrist slipping me in the calling murmur of your blood delicately, in a sentimental future of our shadows we dance in the rhythm of our pulse and longing our kiss on the moon's corner in a caressing suit heals the self-inflicted wounds created by waiting

Would you wanna love me even today? (today I really need it...) And if you could do it even tomorrow (to love me...), (to kiss me...) (to kiss me exactly as you want me...)؟?

at the hour of a liquoriously calorie i've got the power of summer-lovin' few freshly brewed thoughts derived in my bohemian breeze très delicate my lips with the taste of peppermint want to feel your pastelly imagination

If is there a question what's the answer in the atmosphere of your soul? Are you fascinated, into your subconscious about what did you read and listen to? Does the distance between us create one of the most beautiful closeness? And having a cynical obsession with faith, all that happens makes our cravings survive because of me, thanks to you, or because of you, thanks to me...[؟?]...love

fragile, in the thoughts of yours, the thunderclouds brought to you the natural scent of love I'm in

you gazed at me, I gazed at you; instantly we've been diagnosed as the carriers of love's bacillus all symptoms accused us deeply as the lips contoured us severely with the cheeky smiles and longs everything you need, — i became; i am the lust, you, the wish-fullfiler; missin' yo' kissin' is passion's thrill

every shade of you, it's like the baby blue sky disguised in motives, ethics, and tones having dialogues in the syntax of a photo's sentences gripped in your unimaginable fantasy's realm, phenomenal than any kind of real one, defined through the undefinable definition of our love created into the universe with all these things, just a little bit to bleed in our whispers' colors written every day in the ink of a story's sound

I keep holding you up-up…tightly, intentionally, exact as are situated all the stars from the entire galaxy,  exact as your joy on me, it spreads while its charm shine it all around and music's the love of mine given

my baby tames everybody making them understand that our love's edited daily, exactly as it happens today written with a fruity accent in the language of flowers and golden ink of the sun on blue sheets of the sea metamorphosed by sirens through a passionate kiss sealed (with adamantium)

I know that intentionally, you made me forget my grammar by coming with the recipe for only one medication, — Love! And the problem with the warning scheme was simple... — both, the cure and adverse reactions offered wings to travel thru the air of fantasy, enough to find some beautiful visions and to make me reborn in your whispers when you carry me on your mind, as if I'd be a little girl in the poetry's drugstore not the kind of cool town woman who takes out your breath and does nice work if you can get it, my jazzy in your blood.

I hid some kisses in the deepest inner maze of your eardrum I filled it with music and a few witty words, highly heard in any language sufficiently, my tongue and yours can replace any tone any consonant and syllable we to melt in any new/old sigh invented and storied by both of us multitudes of our fire and joy carved by our desires use beastly sensual hues we fueled with slippery sounds of our mutual lusts and a kiss-kiss-bang-bang volume

a number of whispers walk unhindered  thru the searching realm of my mind they are looking for touching memories in deeds, without end and beginning every time when it happens, I'm busted in; never [the blues won't leave me alone]

your own you, out of my own asset, it's synonym with the way you love me, it's the anatomy of an imaginary hug, it's our unconsumed touch, it's your way to caress me with the softest appellative, ᵉᵛⁱˡ mama... it's the combination of both of us, the composers of happiness, — me too time too time too... you...

it seems you've been calling out my mind in your sweet poisoning your whispers touched me and made me to taste each sensation my dream got chorded in the velvet sheets by the bedding's suspires and I know the alarm clock will be my smile breathed intensely [by you...]

an unstoppable artistical silhouette [it's mine, not yours] a frisson into body blues concealed [that's yours, not mine] dream-makers are drawing the mood [eagerness has charm] any thought into my dreamt dreams [prove it be what I need now] loving you, loving me is not fantasy, [even if seems all about it]

for i'm so in love with you   don't ask yourself... why,  but just think... why not¿?

m m m ...  I have a mad urge for Sicilian blood orange... a crazy impulse to feel the flavored juice on my lips, to get drunk with its scent for making my soul dance and my spirit be deeply deep stimulated all day long

You don't possess so captivating howls of the wolves for how much silence of the moon, it is in me, when your thoughts, tiptoeing, got sneaked inside of mine. You don't possess so many forests, which you'd been wishing to grow 'em in your soul, to make me somehow lose myself, to feel what means blood pulse of yours. You don't possess so-so or too much time to be enough to you, when your whispers burn my lips with verses rhymeless, cos too, today, they're longing for your kiss. You don't possess nor even curses, to snatch me out of any fantasy, where seems I'm laying there about forever, waiting frantically for you to love me, as you promised… You don't possess even tomorrow, for how I'm loving you right now, — into a Monday or a Tuesday, a Wednesday, Thursday or a Friday and Saturday to not forget about of Sunday, when you're to me so cold or too-too passionate.

bullet skein unfurls camouflaged vows, at a random time of day, mechanically; mechanically, you smile, thinking of me; thinking of me with you and without you; the time, enthusiastic, whistles to you, — you made a top choice… but you knew… you knew from the start since we met that's nobody like me… [no—bod—y] 🫦

today, I found myself talking to you in the language of roses... j'ai vu ta vie... j'ai vu ta morte... and one long kiss

blue is full of charm,  it's even more than that the deep tint of its spirits has those particularly psychedelic skills capable to insult you without feeling offended [f🅰️Ⓒ💋 you…] 

(call 911), explain to it, explain to them, — I am in trouble, I fell in love with you, I need to be infused intravenously with your schmaltzy kind and your polychrome (call 911), explain to it, explain to them, — my soul's full of clouds and heavy rains it sings a blues, (as incantations) as if it is the honeyed slave of your soulfulness (call 911), explain to it, explain to them, — your sun transfixed my eyes and muses, my senses are in agony of love and pathologically, I look as if I am a temporarily insane kind in a cliché (call 911), explain to it, explain to them, — my mind has been corrupted, got bleached, it keeps me captured in something similar to quarantine… I desperately need you to get me cured if you cannot or can you keep a secret, pardon me, but the dear politeness it doesn't give a damn what others think, — (call 911), explain about it, explain to them