when i want love, my lungs hear my wish letting a song be, — [your hands on my dreaming heart]; in between, another song prepares your lips on my lips to push me to the stars [to moan... with mad lust]; adjusted by the light of your eyes, i'm kissed and wrapped in poetry's empire [for love is what it is], — king of your heart and queen of my heart where i call you and you call me anytime [at the hour of the abstract art];

poem of our love pathogenic gasp longing, in my pen unuttered words hiding you in me you secure me your agony's echo tracks me to be attires of your soul styled by my lungs with the look peeped in love's legend drew

Here I am... (defenseless), (not naked), — right in front of your eyes. Don't stare at me. Take me in. ✰ Without shame, expose me to verbs and pronouns, adjectives, and nouns... Create me to look as if we are reciprocal possessive reflection. ✰ Manipulate the colors or the wavering lights of descriptive linguistics if it's necessary. ✰ Sneak a whisper of Neruda or of another who's nearer to the shelter of your soul... ✰ Be gentle... (remember), — I'm easily tickled and the misery isn't a part of my game. ✰ Sniff me, taste me, feel me, touch me, — arrange my attire, — capture definitively the smallest mistake. ✰ My offer is not a borrow and can't be taken back. ✰ Here I am... (defenseless), (not naked), — wondering by myself how the "love" will be used, where it will be placed, what part of me will be wrapped...‽ ✰ Could be the verb of an adjective from the noun pulverized with known pronouns, or could be you… You & I‧‧‧ cheerily mindsets bathed in