She said to me
“Haven’t you ever loved something you were afraid of?”
You have no idea.
Sweaty palms, racing heart, trouble breathing
Why is it that to the body fear and love feel the same?
Cashmere sweaters folded in a bag weighing under 10 kilograms
Playing solitaire with my thoughts as I yawn to unpop my ears
She said to me
“Sometimes I feel like everything I say is being translated by someone far away in another country who has had to much to drink.”
You have no idea.
Parlez-vous anglais? Non capisco l’italiano. Voe ist the train station?
Relationships aren’t the only time things get lost in translation.
Kind confused eyes search crinkled maps for familiar names I have butchered.
I fold up and tuck sarcastic comments in my pocket for later, for people who will understand them
She said to me
“Did you ever find that you’d outgrown who you were? Cast it off like a snake sheds it’s skin and left a ghost of who it was?”
You have no idea.
A reflection I don’t recognize, words I can no longer define, déjà vu feeling with the scars to prove it’s real.
I squint, peering back into memories to make out the shape of the teenage girl in a uniform plaid skirt.
Words have all the translucence of a reflection. How do you describe something that is in one word everything?
Had to write this for travel writing and thought I'd share for a change of pace.
Thanksgiving/Amsterdam and Paris blogs are coming soon. Things are crazy with lots of wonderful visitors and only 11 days left in Florence.
