Paris does not seem as bright anymore,
Not since you left me hanging, all alone.
My heart tore a bit as you slammed the door
And left me crying at home, all alone.
Now, I sit, thinking of your jet black hair,
The twitch of your lips, the spark in your eyes,
The once-filled space of your bags on the stairs,
Everything I lost on that July night.
Sunrise and sunsets are not as lovely,
Dull grey pastels are now what we called clouds.
The walks in the park make me feel lonely.
“L’oublier,” the leaves whisper far too loud.

“Tais-toi,” I say, “I still love him, tu sais?
Just leave me be, s’il vous plait, just today.”