[hush-hush], ice cream man… I want you
not just at dinner but early in the morning
with dirty little secrets lunching yourself
from me using your lips and continuing
with other elements and things of yours.
Fireworks in me and sweet hysteria it’s
when you touch me. That’s something
  what I’ve known for a very long time.

©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

Gotthard │ Alex Who? │ Marian Hill │ Tony Joe White │ Joe Bonamassa 


If you try to love me under a question mark, better do not.
Nor even a point upon the «i» on me do not suppress.
With apostrophe do not express yourself in front of me.
Neither with the straight lines or the round parentheses.
Hyphen, hiatus, or small abbreviations, the comma, or
the “bang” of exclamation, or even if is the dot on your handy
use ’em without error. Rapid, without any corrections, suffix,
prefix, syllables, thousands of interjections, and numerals
and everything in them, it’s a small proof, that our love
it has been written for being played and spoken, at plural.
The vowels, as fruits predicted by flowers of the cherry tree,
and metaphors with discreet onomatopoeia will turn entire our
sentiments in epithets, using the grammar of our wild amour.


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