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 delightful 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 synonymous

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