love is a lie

Do you think that one candle will be enough with its gentle and gracious light to give a suitable nuance for our nuances of love? Do you think that one song will be enough to touch with gentleness our openness to form new visions in this deep reverie? Do you think that we could be absolved by any culpability when the music wakes up the shiver that shudders some senses? Do you think I think you’ll reformulate a new question with a predictable answer?

I think that nuanced was only the question ’cause our love has passed through any series of shades a long time ago. I think that the one who believes this, in the end, will start to compose new songs because of those visions. I think that I could be a bit accused only for the smile that you brought to me when you asked this. Don’t you think that between questions, the perfect answer could be given with approximation by someone who inspires you at a moment of time؟?

Just a few words, an approach — nothing more. I never had you. Is it sad? — Okay. I admit. But sometimes with a mental intensity could be created, of course only for a short time, a pleasure that could seem almost physical, as if it’s stolen from a moment that appears to be running in something totally erotic. But you already know it, as long as you chose to stay slightly longer here, intentionally. Perhaps was and is very necessary still, to use any vision. I needed, maybe like you, to see me, to see you, as well, even if some would be happy to say about us that our love is a lie

So please… be anything you want. In me, any fiber greets you cheerfully. My whole being it adores you totally. It’s getting me drunk with all you offer or with all that you don’t offer me amid of any experiences or velvety dreams.
©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

Beth Hart

Get drunk!

❝ Be always drunken.

Nothing else matters:
that is the only question.
If you would not feel
the horrible burden of Time
weighing on your shoulders
and crushing you to the earth,
be drunken continually.
Drunken with what?
With wine, with poetry, 
or with virtue, as you will.
But be drunken.
And if sometimes,
on the stairs of a palace,
or on the green side of a ditch,
or in the dreary solitude of your own room,
you should awaken
and the drunkenness be half 
or wholly slipped away from you,
ask of the wind,
or of the wave,
or of the star,
or of the bird,
or of the clock,
of whatever flies,
or sighs,
or rocks,
or sings,
or speaks,
ask what hour it is;
and the wind,
clock will answer you:
“Time to get drunk!
Don’t be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!” ❞
— Charles-Pierre Baudelaire —

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