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Nov 2018
With Paris, in the city of stars. City of the merry-go-rounds with white steeds
and gold sterling-stallions awaiting me to joyously ride upon.

Gold coins dancing in my pockets as we spin and spin --
please, go on. Carry on my white steeds and my gold sterling-stallions!
Dance with me as the passerby rush without noticing.

My hair is tangled in the wind and the wind is tangled in my face
and my face is cold and in the cold my face smiles.
Lights blur, movements cease. It's only me, you, and these bright stars.

Screams fade, chatter halts;
there's nothing but the woosh of the wind, the flurry of my heart.

Don't you see this is where I am? This is who I am?
On this merry-go-round constantly spinning. Forever fast, forever slow.
Forever east, forever west
in Paris.

Such a sweet name, such a sweet tomb -- oh, what a sweet gesture.
Thank you, Paris, for carving this for me.
I will always keep this in my pocket,
so as to remember you as you have remembered me.
with Paris. with the Eiffel Tower. why would I ask for more? when I have you, Paris.
Written by
acacia  F/orbis
   ethan gaskill, Rohan Press and ---
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