The stairs of Montmartre
Are there to reckon with me
Calling me back
Then chasing me away
It’s no good to visit
Only ghosts are there
I walk briskly down the stairs
Each step, another one as I try to leave the past
I doubt she comes back here
To the place where we parted
Or should I say where she ditched me?
I force a smile to the others nearby
But my nonchalance is not sincere
My sunglasses hide a tear
Still I come back
But I really don’t like it here