One Perfect Moment

A storm came and raged and raged. Shouting and throwing projectiles at a face. Crying in the shower, exhausted from a journey of days and days; drowning. I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe. Falling, falling, about to crash. I need a hand and I need it fast. I will not go down that road again; some closed doors should never be opened.
            Buoyant, gasping, to fill lungs with fresh air. Staring into green eyes on a street in Paris. Feeling the butterflies of true attraction, and wanting to reach out for a hand. Two figures simply strolling, so similar. Knowing that they could never be, there was a gilded staircase she could not climb, but in the moment reality suspended. A world appeared within those eyes, seeing his arms around her wrap. Clumps of others crossed their path; their separate ways they went. Pure white silk blowing in the wind; spots of red. Innocence lost.
            One journey over another just begun. Eight, nine, ten o’clock were their hours. Almost always initiating contact pleasantly surprised when it was him. Unable to speak such things in person, going where others cannot see. And then he began to speak of her; the woman of his dreams. Saddened by her inquiries of how to woo a certain gentlemen; he wanted comfort, advice, hope. Knife to the heart, oh sweet irony, stabbed over and over into flesh. What she did to him he does to me over and over again. Sympathy and pain intertwine; flowing fresh blood down the drain. Fingers type and insides scream, love me, love me, oh why can’t you see! Take time to realize, that your warmth is crashing down on in. Take time to realize, that I am on your side Didn't I, Didn't I tell you. But I can't spell it out for you, No it's never gonna be that simple No I can’t spell it out for you. If you just realize what I just realized, then we'd be perfect for each other and will never find another Just realized what I just realized we'd never have to wonder if we missed out on each other now.
            A staircase of gold and the will of a heart; two things keeping them from bliss. Both unchangeable. Bundled up in winter coat, moving feet, and brimming optimism. A street in Paris. Seeing his face a hundred times, first love’s pangs in pools of green. Faded butterflies and loss of tingles, but the longing remains the same. To love and be loved, a Jane Austin ending.
            In the end the lesson is more important, to stand and stand alone. I drowned once, I got pulled out once, but now I swim on my own. No more tears, no more regrets. Solitary, but growing stronger yet.