Wide eye tears; crying all the same —for the ringing memory bells that call your name; all of the kisses in French are in Notre Dame, that had placed a thousand stars in my sight’s eyes.
The blaring drums to the sum of a sound of love — it was loud, it was rough, disastrous, distant, and sometimes so longing; but also so caring, hopeful, understanding, peaceful, building, and close to my heart in the simplest kind. Vanilla like, still it was a taste so hard to explain.
For that I am truly grateful, even if it felt brief, I did get my plateful. So until my next fill of what I get to feel so familiar: I look forward to falling in love again.