I want this type of love again..

i want the kind of love that 9 years later, i can still remember the feel of the seats, his smell enveloping me, the rush of the scenery passing us by:

We Were In Love

We were young, in love, in Paris. That semester, we left behind any semblance of realism – left behind family, friends, obligations – we were young, in love, and in Paris.

There was walks down the Champs Elysees, frantic dashes to catch the Mona Lisa, moments of heightened intellectualism in the gardens.

In the train, you were leaning against the window. You’re hair, black, mussed. I see you, eyes closed, faint shadows under your thick eyelashes. Stubble grown dark against your skin, your lips slightly parted. Dark blue sweater, arms crossed over your chest, your body tight in repose. I stared at you and fell in love, hopelessly, on a train ride.

We were young, in love, in Paris.

2012..tick tick tick

Sometimes it's better not to know, to leave the lights off and fumble in the dark. B/c when you finally move past the glare of blinding light - you won't always like what you see.

It's a new year - full of promise? full of hope? and yet, there is still a steady drumbeat...the tick of a clock (not biological, mind you - never that!) that makes me feel as time is running out. A kiss that should have been just a kiss and ended up being more of a machete slice - still trying to figure out how deep the severing went. Another night of debauchery - wineglasses smashed in street corners, empty bottles, glittery ashes...hey, we've been here before.

2012, new year... here we go again