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Posted by Bluesy Socrateaser on Sun Mar 01, 2009 11:47 pm
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Sketched upon my memory
<br />are those days
<br />we spent in Paris.
<br />You said I was handsome,
<br />I told you beauty became you.
<br />We danced to the buskers
<br />and filled their cups,
<br />as you filled mine with love
<br />and your touch.
<br />Holding you then,
<br />as I am holding you now,
<br />in dreams,
<br />of what I always wanted to be,
<br />rather than what I have become.
<br />
<br />I would have loved you more,
<br />if I could have loved anyone at all.
<br />
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