Like the Cat
Author's Note: This is simply a little something I typed up (inspired by Nita's (She's a Star) blog layout) that seemed to be a bit reminiscent of Moulin Rouge. Sometimes it is best not to look back, as all we are left with are regrets.
* * *
I wish that I had a thousand lives to live again. Then, at least, I might be able to begin to right some of the wrongs I have committed.
One life I would live for myself. I would not smoke and tarnish my lungs, I would not love freely and invite consumption to dwell, I would not sell myself and lose my soul. I would be among the living beings, not the lost souls of the Underworld
One I would live for Paris, for the city I loved and left behind me for the village of Montmartre. Paris would not have me, sinner that I was, though it kept a thousandfold other thieves, murderers, and vile beasts. Paris had no place for me.
But oh, to live again, and to live in Paris. To even be but a beggarwoman on the streets, with nothing but a smile. For I would smile to be in Paris, to feel the grime of her streets beneath my toes, to have her city's smoke ruin my lungs in place of cigarettes. I would die happily there.
A third I would live for the people, for those I never saw. The poor and the ugly, the downtrodden, the crippled and dying. In my life I saw none but the rich and desired to be among them. But this life, this third life I would live for those who I was born to be among. For they are mine, as I was theirs and never knew it.
The next would be for the world, for the flowers and trees and clouds. It would be for the world outside the city, for the country pastures and the farmlands and mountains that I never knew but always dreamt of. I would breathe clean air at last, and would long to lose myself in the woods and ne'er return.
But then I would live for the streets I came from, for the dirt and filth and need that spawned my life. I would not long to leave, but would remember always who I was and keep to my place, to my family. If only I would have remembered, things might have been different.
The sixth... that would be for the faith that I lost, the next for the past I could not escape, and the one following for the future I did not reach.
Another life would be for you, for I could not give you the time you deserved.
But if not a thousand lives, then grant me nine, like the cat.
Nine times to die.
Author's Note: This is simply a little something I typed up (inspired by Nita's (She's a Star) blog layout) that seemed to be a bit reminiscent of Moulin Rouge. Sometimes it is best not to look back, as all we are left with are regrets.
* * *
I wish that I had a thousand lives to live again. Then, at least, I might be able to begin to right some of the wrongs I have committed.
One life I would live for myself. I would not smoke and tarnish my lungs, I would not love freely and invite consumption to dwell, I would not sell myself and lose my soul. I would be among the living beings, not the lost souls of the Underworld
One I would live for Paris, for the city I loved and left behind me for the village of Montmartre. Paris would not have me, sinner that I was, though it kept a thousandfold other thieves, murderers, and vile beasts. Paris had no place for me.
But oh, to live again, and to live in Paris. To even be but a beggarwoman on the streets, with nothing but a smile. For I would smile to be in Paris, to feel the grime of her streets beneath my toes, to have her city's smoke ruin my lungs in place of cigarettes. I would die happily there.
A third I would live for the people, for those I never saw. The poor and the ugly, the downtrodden, the crippled and dying. In my life I saw none but the rich and desired to be among them. But this life, this third life I would live for those who I was born to be among. For they are mine, as I was theirs and never knew it.
The next would be for the world, for the flowers and trees and clouds. It would be for the world outside the city, for the country pastures and the farmlands and mountains that I never knew but always dreamt of. I would breathe clean air at last, and would long to lose myself in the woods and ne'er return.
But then I would live for the streets I came from, for the dirt and filth and need that spawned my life. I would not long to leave, but would remember always who I was and keep to my place, to my family. If only I would have remembered, things might have been different.
The sixth... that would be for the faith that I lost, the next for the past I could not escape, and the one following for the future I did not reach.
Another life would be for you, for I could not give you the time you deserved.
But if not a thousand lives, then grant me nine, like the cat.
Nine times to die.
