alors on danse

on travel and love and resurrection.

summers will pass in bruges, and winters in london " hearts continuously beating to an exotic staccato. kisses etched into the dip of sharp, olive-toned hipbones. madeira wine drunk from the depths of pale white collarbones. we’ll dance pirouettes and speak in native dialects. our laughs wrapped with faux accents " we will even stumble with joyous elegance. 

everything will feel all right until dusk. the black tide will douse the hem of our mediterranean dresses then; a heady reminder that the golden specks spilling from the sun are fickle. marquer une pause. eyes bright and wide, a slight sheen over the blue irises serving as the sole barrier between what is known and what is rhapsodized. a fire orange phoenix flocks overhead, nimbus dousing the shore with white light, and we dance on. stranded on foreign territory, drenched by virulent waters, we dance on. 

Author's Note

title is taken from belgian singer stromae's single.