We've promised to meet in Paris during the Fall, because you always said how much it reminded you of me. A few days ago, Emma and I went for tea up in the City with only our over sized t-shirts (I wore yours, which I suppose is why you left it), and braids on either side. We are tired of being beautiful. You always said how wonderful tea tastes when you're in another country, but I haven't found myself anywhere but the fireplace these days. I can't help but think it should be January, and you back home falling asleep next to me. Summer has never made much sense. Emma said, it's because I've always spent it alone, but now I'm not so sure.
Some nights, I find myself hungry for someone to share my glances with, but everytime I ask, I forget why I did it in the first place. It's like I'm homesick for a place that doesn't even exist anymore. And I'm so afraid that one day I'll think of you, and your name will brush against my lips and I won't be able to hide it anymore. But I remember what you said before you left me that day. You said, "We'll always have Paris."