paris

i want to go to paris someday
to eat madelines and drink wines
in family run cafes where sofas remember
the shapes of our bodies and how your arm
always found a way around me

we'd stand under the eiffel tower
and wonder why there were so many
holes.
but laugh at the water drops
on our now-patterned skin

we'd chase the light over the seine  
and wonder if they'd ever fall
down.
but say they were shooting stars
full of enchantment

we'd kiss in the moonlight
and wonder if the moment would ever
end.
but not just for breath, but for
the rest of time

except those holes were ones in
wishful thinking, like where hope
dies, like a supernova falling to its end.
so i guess it's a real shame that
we'll never make it to paris.