Bonjour mon Amour!

Bonjour mon Amour! I am feeling slightly romantic today. I love love and I am a sucker for romance and I feel romance in the air. I am currently listening to “La Vie En Rose,”and feel as if I am back in Paris, sitting in a cafe in Montmartre sipping on some coffee and writing like a true romantic.


Dried roses, flowers, seashells, memorabilia, all time capsules buried under my bed.

I just come from traveling back in time to from my dusty journals buried underneath my bed. Man, have I always been without a doubt a hopeless romantic. I found letters, journal entries, and songs of love and despair. I collected words I’ve forgotten I once felt or ever thought to have once spoken. Among those is the following: a song of frustration written way back when I was about 19 years young and I couldn’t wait to spread my wings and fly. Here goes nothing…

I Am to Blame

I’ve got alot to gain

but my canvas is plain

and I have no color- no paint.

In the end, I am the one to blame.

I am still here, as I have been for years

I still remain the same

and all my falling tears have made things quiet clear

that I no longer steer

that role belongs to my fears

So I stand here in pain

I am growing insane

I am losing my aim

and losing at life’s game

I am living in vain

and I am the one to blame


my aged journals collecting dust under my bed.

Perhaps, I’ll make it a song and sing it at my local wine bar one day. Perhaps, I am just dreaming. But what good are all these dreamings worth, if they can’t come true? Here is to happiness, to romance, to dreaming and may our dreams come true!

Cheers! Salute! Sante!

Yours truly,



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