I do not think that I can make my eyes look the way that I used to No matter what I do A simple smoky eye means that I am unhappy I show The red cape The stilettos The cropped trousers Those wonderful aviators I thank god each day for my cheekbones and yet still they talk
To be quite honest, I feel nothing I don’t know why exactly
Those ladies walking the through Bergdorfs silently crying Those tissues stuffed into Chanel purses I never would be one of those They are excessive and boring So here I am Alone I do not understand this country But I must admit that I have been so very lucky Do you know how good I look in white? Not everyone can but I do
When we are with the Europeans it is I who they want to see My dresses My shoulders My beautiful table settings They understand me Not him
You should see the gown that came today The fabric The stitching The detail You would not believe it To be honest, really, I am a queen Sometimes even I cannot believe it
I do wish sometimes that he would have a little something Like an accident you know? Maybe quickly, perhaps slowly I don’t know I have to protect my son
I go to the kitchen and think sometimes when I’m with our chef I wonder? Could I? Do I have the strength? What would I wear afterwards?
He will die soon and then I will be free. So today I can smile and wait. Everything will be fine. Our chef is French and he understands me. My intentions.