The French Guy

{Written while smoking a cig outside Liverpool Street Station.}

I close my eyes
Inhale the night

What did you think
The first time you saw me?
I thought
Your lips looked so
Soft
So familiar

I thought
I must have seen these lips before
Maybe I have seen them
Maybe they were meant for me

Admiring the landscape before me
My attention on the petals of one particular flower
My attention on those lips
I thought
If I could take a sip
From those lips

The taste of your soul on my tongue
Would be so sweet
A flavor
So familiar
Maybe I have tasted it before
Maybe it was meant for me

I open my eyes
Exhale the night

Etta by Will Prince | As seen at Boxpark Shoreditch 

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