I love you
Je t’aime- I love you
You told me in Paris once. “Je t’aime my Johnnie.” Your words like sweet wine overtook my mind and heart. Today I remembered you. Dark brown eyes and beautiful spirit, filled with life and laughter.
You became my Paris dreams. You painted me a safe and beautiful place for me . We stayed bare to the world in the hotel room. Drinking the French wines and listening to Lara Fabian song. You told me. “I shall be your Juliet and you will be my Romeo. I want to become your Hemingway dream. Please Johnnie, swim into my warm and wanting flesh and forget the battle of life. We must play saint and sinners. Let’s play lovers that need, never will end.”
I told her. “My sweet and beautiful Brigitte. I will remember you. I have loved our interludes of kiss and touch. I yearn to taste your skin and kiss you lips. You took me to blessed places and tattoos your face upon content heart.”
Dear Brigitte rose-up and danced to the cassette player . She allowed Lara Fabian voice to take her divine place in the words. I watched her sway of hips and moving breasts. Her perfect movement showed me. Perfect world are just seconds, minutes and glorified hours where love is free and true.
Brigitte brought me to her. She embraced me deeply and she whispered. “Love is sacred and very sweet. Tonight we have, me and you. We shall become one in enshrined place where love will flourish and we shall know the inferno of uncontrolled passion. Je T’aime my Johnnie. I will keep you safe and sound.”
Tonight I drink the whiskey and I remembered a place and a beautiful face. Her words wise and sweet still haunting me. “Life is just seconds, minutes and glorified hours. We must make them last as long as we can. One day. These seconds, minutes and hours will be needed. To know we had attempted love my dear lover.”
Old Poet write words upon old journal.
Where are you dear lover?
Where are you kind lady?
We danced once to the beat of the wild hearts
and the freedom for the love to be expanded and to heal.
Now old photos and song is all the old Poet had.
You wanted to be a Hemingway love.
You did. You haunted me like his love, Agnes did.
I shall remember you. My Paris love