still i am in paris. almost a week now. and for a week, i've wandered her streets, mastered her metro, walked upon her history, beauty, magic, and romance. and it was only today that i began to notice that everyone here is kissing.
everyone but me.
for four years i've been single. though i have dated a time or two, nothing even resembling serious has my attention been taken. and though there was one who i'd've given everything to, for the most part it's because the single life is the one i've most desired.
and here i sit in paris, in this beautiful lit city of romance, seeing the embrace and public affection of lovers.
and i'm jealous.
as much as i love, appreciate, and admire myself for conquering a country(s) whose language i can't speak, i can't help but envy the lovers who populate its streets.
for about me, i don't know what this means. maybe i'm ready for something i'm not sure i can admit (i mean, where's a girl to find a man who wants a nomadic life of changing the world?), but i know i wish that in paris i should have someone to kiss.
a city of love without someone to kiss doesn't really do much for mon amour.
¬k
No comments:
Post a Comment