Passionate In Paris
I’m the daughter of a sewer and a book-worm, and the sister of the most compassionate boy in the world. I live in New Zealand but I left my heart in Paris, on the steps of the shining Sacré-Coeur. Some of the people I love wear silver bow rings and have tight curls and give fashion advice and rave to rap music and read their Bible and twirl their ponytail and teach me French slang and decorate with feathers and share soft hugs and squeeze my hand tight as the aeroplane takes off. If I love you that will involve bouncing and driving fast and cute texts and long conversations and star-gazing and second-hand book stores and pink wool and Frank Sinatra songs and tears and bottles of champagne and Oscar Wilde quotations and, above all, tender hugs and passionate prayers.
"Be pretty if you can, be witty if you must, but be gracious if it kills you." - Elsie de Wolfe
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I just want You to come now and get me and I can be small enough to snuggle into Your lap; You’ll stroke my hair down my back and kiss the top of my head and wait until my breathing evens out, and I turn my head to look into Your eyes. I’ll beg You to take this all away and realise that before the words even make it out of my mouth, Your heart has broken for me, and made everything more beautiful than it was before. I hope so.
I want You to be the kind of Dad that does just make everything better; I want to turn back to clock to that time when your parents truly are invincible and keep the world turning just right. I need You to be like that, please, because nothing where I am is working, no one here is quite right.
I don’t want to be a loser. I want to be Yours - to be safe and light and strong; wiser and more resilient than I feel right now.
(Source : babyviper, via uncensored--living-deactivated2)
