in the land of your soul


au pays de ton âme • original artork • un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎

with kindness, before to taste you,
i tenderized your lips with my lips

i let my sweet sap scatters smoothly
thru the serpentines of your brain

patiently, i waited for it to ascend
in the land of your soul to win you fully

unbridled, you abandoned yourself
to all my will willed to all my lust lusted

licentious, my energy controls you
you feel me to the bone, you love me
☙❧
un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎

in my dreams


original artwork • un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎

let’s drink a coffee, a tea, let’s talk about us
or just let’s watch ourselves at each other
to feel together how often love kissed us…
it whispered at my soul’s roots, the spring;

let your mind’s steps tread on the doorstep
of my blues using a poem without uttering
love’s words, lusts, and longings but only be
felt in the emotional charging of your cells;

let your chromosomes’ scent getting spread
tenderly to touch my meadow of buttercups
placed in my dreams among time and space
with the noise of verses moaning your name…

again whispered at my soul’s roots, the spring;
☙❧☙❧☙❧☙❧
un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎

couleur menthe à l’eau


💫💯✍

un p'tit je ne sais quoi

home

I sip from the moon, from the sin and
diaphanous hours that’s flowing, with

I’m sipping from the moon, from the sin and
from diaphanous hours plunged
in me in you in us to carry a bit of happiness.

I’m sniffing from the nights, from whimsy stars
enough to bring ’em in your soul from my soul
filled with stories ripped from sunrise.

Consider me guilty. Blame me for I’m writing
these epistles. But my longing for you
is analgesic. It’s pure amphetamine…

Is something translucent that turns darkness
teaching me to crawl in, among, and towards
a light that lets you dream inside me…

Is my climax syllabled by you, the chosen, —
the one trained in the couleur menthe à l’eau
the one that my mind and soul listen to…

©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

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distorting time


the magic tips of his dreams fingers
slipping sluggishly in her heart pocket
caress any carnal curves of her brain
then annihilates any psychic aggression
by sedating her with the vaccine of love
of his longing that burns smoldering

the magic tips of his dreams fingers
slipping sluggishly in her heart pocket
is kissing the platonic texts of her lust
painted by the resolutions of his universe
with a distorting time in a square moon
rolled in a future of an imperfect perfection

and this happens just because
the tips of his dreams fingers are magic…

un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎

📸 Alexander Krivitskiy