Paris

Hello my loves! I went to the library for most of this afternoon, and worked on writing and editing. It’s been a beautiful day. This week's Friday Poetry is entitled "Paris"It's about love and wanderlust, two of my favourite subjects in the world, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it. xx

 

Paris

In Paris, you told me
as you gazed at me for the first time
there are museums filled with dreams
on paper colours you never imagined could exist
in daring, graceful strokes that swirl effortlessly
into all the answers to the questions
you never thought to ask

I looked at you.
Take me to Paris, I said.

In New York, you told me
as my tears fell on your cheeks
there are towering buildings that bump against
the lowermost edges of heaven,
and city lights that wink and sparkle
even when the darkest night descends
just to let you know that you are never alone

I looked at you.
Take me to New York, I said.

In London, you told me
as I wished for a miracle to appear
there are thick silver fogs that envelope
the world in a blanket of cobwebs
and all the magic people have tried so hard
to discover and invent and create comes to life
under the quiet of the fog

I looked at you.
Take me to London, I said.

In Venice, you told me
as I drove too fast and tried to find escape
there are long winding canals that snake
through the innermost secrets of the city,
and the setting sun sends dying rays of gold
to light the darkest depths of the city on fire

I looked at you.
Take me to Venice, I said.

and then, two fifteen in the morning
words turned into shards of glass piercing deep
into the places we thought were safe with each other
and all the things we tried to hide screamed
into the open air

and I ran far
until the stars dried the tears
and the wind soothed the wounds
until I thought I had escaped everything
I didn’t want to face—

but you followed.

In Spain, you said,
as I pushed you away and closed my eyes—
because I did not want to hear about Spain,
did not want to hear about Paris or New York
about London or Venice
did not want to hear about the museums
about the skyscrapers or the fogs or the canals
did not want to hear anything you had to say,

In Spain, you said very quietly
as I tried to delete your apologies from my mind
tried to muster the heart to walk away

In Spain, you said
there are oceans that stretch farther
than the mind can ever hope to fathom
farther than any apology I could give you
and they sing to the world until the end of eternity
and the air always smells of salt and hope

I looked at you for a very long moment.

Tell me again about Paris,
I said.