Love Tenderly

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Paris

Under the twinkling lights, the lights I found my inspiration and muse.

Your kiss slow and tender, as we lay on the grass, soaking in the summer air. I find myself under the slope which takes me to Paris, city of Romance, city of love…romance can’t be just with a man. Romance is the act of seeing life as art, as a creation of an artwork, beautiful, unpractical, it’s being nice to yourself, it’s learning to breathe, to love yourself and every particle of yourself and others that isn’t perfect…it’s learning to smell and breathe, to love the flowers that bloom, brightly, imperfect, sweet. 

As I venture forth, I grin and fly free. 

I do this, without reason, to come alive, for myself, selfishly, truly, freely. Without reason, without practicality, because life is worth living. 

You have to take life with a smile, a laugh, with not too much pressure on yourself to get things right, you have to cheer up, jump, skip if you have to. You have to grasp each moment and let the sun bake your skin dry. You have to fly freely, feeling each moment with gusto.

If it hurts, you continue forth, letting go freely. As I enter the mode of transportation, saying goodbye, I let all pain slip into the past. I’m free, free. No longer someones’ somebody, and it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to let go of practicalities, realities and become the princess in the fairy tale. 

It’s okay to disappear for awhile, to shut down, it’s okay to breathe and sink into the grass. 

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