Paris

I was told to bring pens and a note book. lots of pens because ink is essential. and a note book, a plain one with no sentimental value.

I wasn't supposed to bring make up. I wasn't supposed to cover up, I wasn't supposed to fake my blush, I wasn't supposed to lengthen lashes or stain my lips.

Naked face with no powder. But power.

People could see the tear streaks on stained cheeks. see the chapped lips, with cuts and splits, they leave an ugly kiss. My eyes look small, they look less, they don't pop or impress. they just see. see surroundings, and see imaginings. see my scars, see them near and far. See my smile. because that is real.

I dressed in weird clothes.

 I walked unknown streets of my heart and found a nice little diner to eat at.

 I met some nice people. I met famous people, but realized they were just people. I met people who I thought were just people but realized they were famous.

 I became famous. 

I became just a person. Human.

 We laughed and ate oranges.

We painted with our tears,crayons and pens, while avoiding the color green.

We threw some bricks.

We watched an opera.

We started a book, but we were told how it ends. (they die)

I fell in love

and I guess you could say I was lost. 

but it became my home. 

and I don't plan on leaving soon.

Paris is part of me now