touch
with some stubbornly persistent illusion, wise and adequate, manipulated by you, a known unknown creature, who adores to be felt where unpredictability exists to play and serve simultaneously, my smile, pardoned in a delighting glass with tricky liquor, created meticulously to touch you at a present mind's hour, taken over from one of the pasts led to one of the futures, it's our universe that looks synonymously with some stubbornly persistent... illusion ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ an illusion of a longing lost, kept hostage on the groans of a blues, playing its thrills at a carafe, haunted by disinterestedness, but which has the ghostly love's promises glorified on an astral rug plaited with stars and the prophecy of the sun and the moon guarded by spirits of the seas and oceans to not get swarmed by the lie of happiness that has its address in the forest of hopes and where our thought is walking its game, ...an illusion of a longing lost, kept hostage
