focus on me
To some extent, between ballasts and luxury sides, sit the feelings. Feelings in brute shape, which to be expressed must be chiseled. Chiseled by one who loves to claim deep answers, artfully poetized. Poetized, a tongue wetting lips, a gaze to other lips that focus on me. On me, if they want to be heard or long to be kissed [7 seconds to decide] Decide at once, till the phone rang and like a tableau that feeling got hung at thoughts' degree rank.
