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

love is food [I feed you] l'amour est nourriture [je te nourris] love is a scent [I perfume you] l'amour est un parfum [je te parfume] love is music [I sing to you] l'amour est musique [je te chante] love is a feeling [I live it] l'amour est un sentiment [je le vis] daily I wake up to be rebirthed in dreams tous les jours je me réveille à renaître dans d'autres rêves in my dream, reality is you, [love] dans mon rêve, réalité c'est toi, [l'amour] this insatiable passion it feels like summer... cette passion insatiable ça sent à l'été... touch me ... breathe me ... [birth me...] touche moi... respire moi... [naissance-moi...]

juste pour le péché d'être aimé de moi, juste pour le péché d'être aimé de toi... un message séraphique et suggestif, — [blessé par un bruit nerveux d’aucuns esprits imbéciles... et accusateurs...], flotte dans l'écho silencieux d'un rêve où j't'écoute chérie, t'm'écoute chérie, mimant ludique une passion charnelle ✳ ... si certains ne peuvent pas être excités par la musique, à quoi ça sert d'expliquer, basiquement, c'est juste la musique [... là]   for the sin of being loved by me, for the sin of being loved by you, a suggestive innocent message [hurt by a nervous noise of some imbecile and accusatory minds], waits in a silent echo of a dream to listen to darling me... and you, miming playfully carnal passion ✳ if some can't be thrilled by music, what's the point to explain to 'em, basically, it's only music, (...there)

you adjusted my body in some breeze, felt and seen waltzing through the seas, as well as my scent, designed in a night-blooming beauty, to bring to you each illustrated desire, intimated chic, in the navy tints of the sky you prognosticated, as if it was given to me to write to you with the holy visions' ink in the limits of your wills, grafted beyond a last sunset, a last goodbye, a mystique cliché, as nothing of what we did to not disappear, [ever]

should I make myself a coffee or a lemonade should I do what I want now or wait for later should I get to your harbor or to stay in my roadstead should I see each thing in black-white or in colors should I assist myself with a white wine or a white tea should I dress in a well-ironed shirt or in a wrinkled coat should I bet on the winner or to bet on the dreamer should I be your naughty or your sweetie should I wear you in my soul or to hold you in my mind ‧‧‧ well, which choices come online, always come thru you… my love

The uncommunicativeness has fabricated the alphabet of silence, composing so the words from sounds, chic combined with mine and yours, plasticized in the inverted commas, because a title can be dotted with dots. When the scheme of the words gets to you, they kiss your lips, haunted in the nuance of a sinless flirt, blown through the murmur of a bizarre thought in the anticipation of some responses to the questions of my soul. Both our opinions palpitate in syllables, read and heard in some dialects written on the staffs with the echo's synesthesia, susurrated in the mirror of the sky, while you're in my mood, exactly as… eu quero, you, sighing out your fixation, elle et moi. “un coin d'une rue une enfant elle très belle très blonde quelque part dans la ville Elle et Moi un jardin tranquille un regard une étreinte un frisson des yeux qui se lèvent une larme qui coule doucement sur sa joue la douceur de ses lèvres Elle et Moi son corps vibre sous mes caresses nos souffle

nor even if it's the night, nor even if it's the day don't run... don't run away out of my dreams, — only there can be told what never happened but comes naturally... (to me and you...) contextual

— do you know where you are? — …in a dream — which one? — an invented one — which one? — the one of an intimate exploration, hidden in the shape of an external search,      reshaped to keep the dream alive —  which one? — the dream you dream i feel you feel me

I painted you in the pastel of my heart when thousands of colors were not enough to caress warmly so many vagueness forms in the steps of time and when all other painters were breathing just black and white. I reread you in noblest book rigged on a shelf without the dust of the soul. I've muttered the warmest song out of unnumbered sounds thrown tenaciously toward the many ears but some haven't afforded to listen to it. I chose you be my director who turns drama in a romantic story with a happy ending knowing that the end actually embraces a new beginning formulated to blow up in another one verbalized in our mind.

provocative touches ask for other heavenly touches, whatever you ask for in intimacy, it's acceptable,  it's even desirable... nothing is objectionable as long as there isn't some public nature, but what it's narrated further, it's a different story,  for the mind is always unguarded, and eyes, lips, spicy words and gestures are much more daring... there is nothing more occult than love's chemistry… ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Because 🎧 I need Love, baby, Love, not trouble... ain't funny How Love Works 🎧 More and More, Less and Less  ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

  « to help you find the girl you aim,  she loves sugar...  she loves kisses, she loves hazard  as Alice, she takes a pill,  as a ghost, she haunts the field,  in the steam, her finger draws  something smiling, I do not know...  tick-tock, tick-tock, the end is near,  when winter comes, she disappears...  one means two, boy, don't miss the train,  you are warned, you, not to blame,  red, yellow, blue,  a dancing girl in front of you,  another thing you cannot see  read the book and follow me »  ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ « – so, what's your name? — •••• – what's your favorite color? — blue – so, if you're frenglishly off and you won't tell me  where are you going anyway  to some weird country, I'll still find you — you will never find me – that's what you think? — yes! – you can change your hair,  you can change your eyes,  you can change your nose,  i'll still find you — you will never find me – i'm really-good — you'll never find me,  you hav

As me to get to you faster, I begged the moon,  «give me your mystery and drag me with you anywhere you can enter, on the horizon of dreams where the sun loves to hide to play peek-a-boo» As me to get to you faster, I said once again, — «come on, dear moon, give me your secrecy and take me up to the one I love, to the one who waits in a dreamy realm, supernatural and mysterious» As me to get to you faster, the moon straightaway appeared, adorning me with tiny-petty fairy wings to get to the clouds, then further and further where you wait for me in the fluffy sounds, — cocooned