Friday, September 8, 2017

Remembrance

I'm in the Luxembourg Garden writing postcards to some version of myself, a cup of coffee with vodka getting cold in my hands. The sun sets in red and lilac across the river, bars and restaurants filling up with people I'll never know. I look for mother in the crowd of shadows, I look for Henry and I look for Carl but no one's there and the air is getting lighter.

I've been so fucking tired of the sound of my own voice that I let others do the talking. It's amazing how badly people long for someone to listen. I know how they feel because I used to be there but I lost my way and ended up here, silenced by my own thoughts, unable to let go of the future.

Another summer ended, I stopped counting them the day he died. Remembering what he told me just days before it happened is the only thing that keeps me going. "My darling Avy" he said, "don't ever stop dreaming of the things you really want."





















8 comments:

  1. sorry you're having a rough time hun <3 beautiful words though, I'll be visiting Paris soon!

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  2. It's been so long since you started wandering.

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  3. nice pics!

    www.bstylevoyage.blogspot.com

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  4. It seems you already know those people. That's why you don't want to know them any better.

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  5. I've felt that emptiness, the silence, the words stuck in my throat, that's amazing writing, but heed those words, dream on......

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  6. Such beautiful words!! Don't ever stop dreaming. Hang in there. This too, shall pass.

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  7. dreams dim, but the pen is filled with ink...

    don't ever stop writing, Miss Avy, it really is the most sacred therapy. without my Friday Night Writes I'd be in the loony bin.

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