I want to run away. 
I want to elope in Vegas

with a ring you bought with your last two quarters

or ink that refuses to wash away in water.

I promise not to complain 
as long as you promise 
to propose under the Eiffel Tower.

I dont care if it all crumbles, 
because I’m sure 
I’ll have lived the best years of my life
 –be it with you or without. 

 Ideally, though… 
the ring should be comparable to Harry Winston.
 Van Cleef & Arpels, perhaps.
I want every girl’s dream.
The fairytales they stopped believing in. 
I want to be your princess. 
Royal love.
Predestined. 

  

Arranged.


The tower? 
Preferably in Paris.
 But Vegas would do just fine. 
We’ll  tell everyone we know to meet us there. 
We’ll drink until the sun comes up 
and make love until it goes down again. 
Fuck
 the way things are supposed to be. 
Let’s just do it 
however it comes to mind. 
I belong 
in love.
My daydreams cast you 
as Prince
but the fireworks

blur the sky.

And the clock

has begun to chime.

As 

my heart sings your name in time.


We’re racing 
towards the same finish line. 
I’ll promise to keep up
with your stride.
If you’ll promise 
you won’t break the tape
without me.