Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

My eyelids are the most faithful mirror where I can see myself. So I closed my eyes. You were there…

you have no idea how many languages speak my soul how many translations makes my mind how many loves, i loved how many loves loved me and how they got old, — coquetting with the future... [is golden] you have no idea how my fragrance splits their thoughts kissing their dreams, provoking their pulse, their smile, their heartbeats to flee out of troubles or any other pressure, [you haven't, have you?] — [neither do i...]

hunger hurts, — especially the hunger for love (yours…) i tried even some courier platforms, — (you weren't on their menus) and i feel as if this longing (for you), it metamorphosed… (into a monster) (like a parasite, jumbles me…) lord how i'd wish this burning gets into you, too

look at me now, — devour me, — rock your love on my lips ⋯ their savor tells you to tell me in the language of longing accented by a predatory dream the manner you feel me...

The fireball caught a demon camouflaged into Grandes Oreilles, thru morning's eyelash. Sinfully, a phone's ring, stabbed the silence making me stutter some not-so-cheery words. Attracted by cadence, nobody anticipated what I'll be writing about, as the music flows. Moon's hiccup, in nocturnal choreography hardened someone's lips to don’t bring me down. On trees, bloom a verse, inked, (for curious' eyes). And you? You smile, [translating, calm, my light].

How tall is the grass cultivated by your brush on my fantasies' canvas, [it's an enigma] How many parties of colors got diluted with your rave in my thoughts' water, [it's swanky sin] How much joy brings to your air's ankle, when my wild blue eyes step on it, [it's atmosphere]

when the day's completed, i give it soul, i give it light, i give it wood blue's scent ‧ i allow Clapton [do his job], so tenderly to sigh to me, — […who's wonderful tonight ] ‧ ad interim, i do a nix but sip a dominant red glass, which gracious, kicks up… my heels

the woman in me is felt, isn't seen; looks for you, not as you think; at whatever hour, she's cheered by a tonic; [coffee ...or something]; (don't blink...), she’s in the room... (already). the woman in me, — smilingly, adores to make dinner plans; it's her benefit to be a trick sum; will sneak you wherever she longs for... just as she wants. the woman in me, seductively, will not try to tempt you at all; (you'll wish imprisoning yourself) in her life, in her dreams, in her's her. the woman in me... is cleverly sly, is cynical- happy, is hurting no one; beware what you wish or you ask for; hating to love her will be never an option; watch how you're acting; she might not be joking. the woman in me is felt, isn't seen; it looks for you... not as you think; at whatever hour, she's cheered by a tonic; [coffee ...or something]; (drink up...), she started... (already).

it was a box... for memories... (the wild ones) they said, — (aloud...) (looked like some smiles) an echo of the eyes, — (somebody specified) it was, and it's so effusive,  (the glint of life), said others (some wrote about it...), (some made a film...), — i heard 'em mentioning, — (some do it), still… (into your mind...)