it's your first day in paris after a long flight yesterday. you wake up to the sound of leaves rustling from the hundred-dollar hotel room window you paid with blood, sweat and tears, and smiles. you stand as the doorbell rings. it was the same guy who brought you your luggage upstairs. he was cute, muscular and with a smile so sweet.
you become conscious of your early morning look and slams the door in his face after he delivers your breakfast inside. you were embarrassed but you would think it won't matter as that is probably the last time you'll see each other
you shower and try to plan your day ahead in your mind. you like to do that, thinking in the shower. you can't wait to explore all the nicest places this paris could offer but you're a bit anxious because you've never been far from home and alone.
you will blame the one person who made you go there in the first place: the freaking band you can't live without. the 1975 from manchester. you smile. you dance. you sing.
"she said hello..."
you'll think you should have said hello to the guy from earlier and how you started this whole day wrong after all. you pull at your hair, annoyed, get dress and make your own lyrics to paris of the 1975 as you discover this beautiful new world, not feeling alone.
YOU ARE READING
butter fly thoughts
Poetryfor when the butterfly comes and my words with it, hope it reaches you and your soul. a four-part collection of just words with feelings. might not be for everyone. ✐ DISCLAIMER: May contain mature content. Read at your own risk.
