we stopped to kiss in front of the catholic church on rue poincarré after a dinner of tartar at my favorite little place. "jolie église" he said. his eyes grazed my body,
"you're wearing a white dress" he said, and lightly tugged my wrist toward the church doors.
"you're wearing a white dress" he said, and lightly tugged my wrist toward the church doors.
the last time we slept together we didn't even make love. we were both so tired. so tired.
its always a problem connecting people and places. to the extent that leaving one makes leaving the other seem like the only option.
3 comments:
I've just stumbled upon you blog and I love it - very sweet :)
thank you! how sweet.
It's my pleasure! And don't be heartbroken - my blog is alive and kicking :)
I'm looking forward to reading yours.
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