A Paris You Hate
not to be misconstrued with À Paris Tu Hâte
A Paris You Hate It’s the secrets he keeps about who I might be, the rhythm of our feet the chances of melody it’s never when you’re ready he whispers to me but if not now, then we may never see At least there is this our space our time our temporary kiss knowing what is here knowing there’s more to miss how could I go back to a manufactured bliss when something so easy is lingering on my lips Closing my eyes is trouble enough but to shut a door once open feeds my fear of rebuff sleep with me forever in this day dream composing our music setting our scene and if it is just a moment that we are creating let it be outside of time a never ending fling In a Paris you hated our love was left bank maintenant plus beau parce que tu me manques
More poetry from my Paris..
Also this..
The Little Black Cigarette Chapter 1
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It started in a rounded flat just north of Luxembourg Gardens, when my feet lifted out of bed and landed firmly on newly polished marble. Icy-cold, newly polished marble. I rocked to the balls of my feet and made my way down a sunlit hallway to, what my sleepy eyes made out to be, a toilet. I bit my lower lip as I tiptoed, dancing around the chance of m…