This is the place I long to be strolling secret streets of Paris, hand in hand were we, with every precious moment cherished
We walked worn brick paths each day regardless of the weather come rain showers, come sunshine, we explored together
For it is there I remember the sparkle in your lion eyes, shining brighter than the city’s golden ethereal light when once the evening fell, we nestled in our downy bed, your tenderness held me captive with the starlit night and in that simple tiny room, I wept fresh tears of joy
Author’s Note: These precious trinkets hang in my bedroom’s hallway.
Twenty-five years ago, I kissed this boy for the first time.
He looked at me, and it didn’t matter where I began or where I was.
He made it feel like we could exist in a world where every day might contain at least a tiny spark of magic.
He made truth feel like magic.
The time we spent together began to feel like helium in my veins, and his eyes were the most tangible slice of hope I’d ever seen.
He still looks at me like I’m his forever.
I still cry sometimes after he closes his eyes and falls asleep, because I feel so grateful.
Not because he loves me without reservation, but because he exists,
and I am so lucky to be a part of that existence.