fairytales et mon amour pour le français

Moments step in our lives that are often far and between but their significance and emotional warmth linger so long after that, regardless of our immature hurtful objective, they are too wonderfully joyful. They make you sparkle as even the wisp of a crackling memory calms your present storm.

There are only a few people who can still make sparkle. In my dreams and for always Pierre will be my French fairytale.

On the night where we were both caught off-guard, I was suffering the piercings of another and he was celebrating his departure,
you sat me on your lap… raised my hopes, set my mind in overdrive… made me believe in love stories and Fairytales.
You and I, like then, stood together with endless conversations and way too many jubilant opportunities to prove you wrong. In the midst of your gentle affection, my smile for once permanent, yours cheeky at the corners.

Like then, I envisioned and anticipated romantic evenings, just him and I.

If left to imagine… I remember, reminisce and presuppose, a Fairytale where laughter and your arms are open and inevitably certain, where I am your undiscovered future and you are devoid of any error.
Days after, lying on the grass, hands and feet intertwined, the sun hot, your body warm, mine welcoming. Those eyes locked. Stare into mine.
Me carefree, careless and pursuing;
You, deep, meaningful and habitually present.

But Fairytales?
Existence and actuality – cynical laughter at such youthful delusions. Drop everything and concede to complete removal of my customary fervent mistrust? Throw loyalty and a once happy past to the dogs at a moments passionate irrationality?

Or take opportunity and hope, let myself fall for Fairytales and Pierre’s and Philippe’s. In spite of time, others or history; in any case surroundings, premature judgments, anyone but him and I, are trifling, congregate on the boundaries of past customary anxiety.

In its place, more willingly foresee Fairytales. Plunge into your eyes and provoke your thoughts, where events are vibrantly heartwarming and situations undeniably real; where everything is perfect beyond expectations and we are open to perpetually aspiring possibilities.

With a click the door shut

I turned,
caught off guard,
taking those steps.

Fairytales wiped away, you and I undiscovered. Regret sunk in as you became a distant, desired memory… stepping back into what I don’t believe is destiny’s doing.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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About iheartmess

A Middle Eastern Londoner 20-something living the 'western' life in between London and home.
This entry was posted in happy, written words and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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