"It's eight thirty," she says,
Her feet crossed and hair falling out of a braid
A French eight thirty means glittering lights
On the Eiffel Tower,
Street venders selling champagne,
Couples on the street corner,
Wishing you were here

when nothing is certain,
he is

Timid smiles
Soft hellos
I loved you,
And I told you so

I love you every day
and every night
and all the spaces between the moments that I breathe,
Through the system that my heart uses to pump oxygen to my body.
I can't help feeling you in the rose on my cheeks.
In and out of consciousness,
whispering through the phone.
I loved you all along,
I loved you all along

You are my every waking thought
I swear time collapses when I think of you
Melting me down
Memorizing parts of me I forgot
All I want to do is be with you

Card tricks.
They're easy: create a diversion, hide something behind your thumb, snap your fingers.

I’ve always been easy. It's not hard to manipulate a girl by a slight of hand. Put her heart out from behind her ear. Tell her she's worth something, just to create a distraction so you can get what you really want.

But you, you were different. Your hands made things disappear: rings and cards and twenty five cent coins,

And things like the way I always felt used and the way I always felt like I was never good enough and the way I always felt insane for wanting something more than distraction.

You weren't a diversion. You were the real thing.

It's one fifty three
I'm half asleep in a hostel in Paris
He tells me
"We'll see how we feel"