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 ;₎₎

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

am the pollen of words
in the whispers of your dreams

my mind spreads honey
while your bud blossoms stars

vulnerable, your galaxy marvel
in the taste of my marvel

seeing you perfuming yourself
with my blue eyes’ memoir
…
un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎

subject, — Memories 🎨 Ewa Switala