I have been young and stupid for the past week.
Just completely reckless with my feelings.
Pauline says I have the heart of an artichoke.
But I don’t care, my world has never been more clear.
I return in one month, with Paris out of reach.
Unless we marry. Oh, please grant me citizenship.
We could pool our money, take a cheap room on MontMartre.
I’ll work and write, while you continue your studies.
I know I’m not the best, but with practice it will come.
I don’t need much, just a couple of dresses,
some paper and pens.
Please don’t make me return to my world of comforts.
Paid education, well to do parents.
There is no inspiration in that place.
All I want are our afternoon walks, the green of your eyes.
Paris by night, the city lights.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a planned future,
wealthy parents, or any expectations.
In that life, I’d stay here with you.
