I Want to Fall in Love with You

(writer’s intent)

I write this from a Parisian café, seated next to the morning lilies and dew, watching the eyes of people lost in their strides, tasting the pain au chocolat, which sounds more like pain, which is all too familiar. 

I write this from my Spanish balcony, with a pen, and a cigarette, and the ashes of my long lost lives, looking out east, hearing the ocean, waves crashing at the rocks, waves breaking my trance, on an evening when the rain threatens the aging cobblestone streets and romantic nights of Flamenco guitars.

I write this from an airplane, tres metros sobre el cielo, on leather skin with germs, on a red eye flight in the eye of a storm, the end of a life and the beginning of another world, out of coincidence and chance, or perhaps destiny, wondering which the stronger force may be, which the more romantic.

But really, I write this from a mattress. Cold and lonely. Crowded with dreams. Under the covers of my own intentions. Hidden and waiting and tired of waiting and yearning to sleep.

I want to fall in love with you in all these places. In a café in the heart of the City of Love, a heart that yet still beats. On a balcony above a street more alive than life itself. On a plane with no destination and uncomfortable seats and foggy windows which somehow promise tomorrow. In my bed, under my dirty sheets, looking at the dollar-store glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, naked and cold but warmer than ever before. 

I write this from a place of love, of hurt, of desire, of longing, of immense and unexplainable Saudade for something seemingly lost to my memory—something that I know my memory has never held captive in its infinite beyond. A place of great inexperience and even greater grief for the lost time spent thinking I had found a lover worthy of obsession.

I want to fall in love with you will make you fall in love—with the boy you will never forgive, with the girl you will never forget. 

I write this for the child that I was and the woman I am becoming, the person I am just now falling in love with. I invite you to nurture each word that I write, each sentiment I procure out of my deepest and most inaccessible memories of love, and memories disguised as love, which I would rather not remember. I invite you to fall in love with me, and in the process fall in love with love itself.