http://pauvfille.over-blog.com/ Les 25 derniers commentaires publiés sur le blog "le blog pauvfille" fr Tue, 10 Mar 2009 14:41:10 +0100 Tue, 10 Mar 2009 14:41:10 +0100 Over-blog.com RSS 2.0 Engine Copyright 2012 pauvfille.over-blog.com Loisirs http://www.rssboard.org/rss-specification/ http://pauvfille.over-blog.com/article-1880642-6.html#comment3876588
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c'est gratuit ! Ca ne vous coutera que 10 secondes ;) SOYEZ LES PREMIERS !]]> Mon, 24 Apr 2006 16:07:35 +0200 e7fcbc98a2eb8c01905f504a3da62dca http://pauvfille.over-blog.com/article-1880642-6.html#comment3322935


euromillion resultat euro million resultat euromillions]]> Fri, 31 Mar 2006 03:45:01 +0200 ebe0411fb7f0ef7d45b446d9e6edd41f http://pauvfille.over-blog.com/article-1880642-6.html#comment3191896


Sonnerie Gratuite]]> Sat, 25 Mar 2006 17:40:35 +0100 5129b04e4e031369bfd10f34c5d41dbe http://pauvfille.over-blog.com/article-603932-6.html#comment572791 There was this boy, two years older, one foot taller than me, and totally hateful (?). He made me blush. He made me laugh. He was the first boy ever to call me, making (? nonsense) smile, this secret smile of his.

And I blushed.

He gave me a fake rose for Valentine’s, sprayed with the smallest touch of some heady perfume. I bought sweets every morning before class. He serenaded me with our gospels and I read aloud books by Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Once he hit me on the head with a volley ball and got on his knees right in the middle of the cafeteria to apologise.

I loved him so much.

I sat down in the warm sun, on the dry grass, looking at him play volleyball, encouraging him until my throat was dry and my eyes burnt. Every time he looked at me, a grateful smile on his face, I felt tears stinging my eyes, and loved him even more.

Love. I never knew it until I met him.

I wanted to be his world, to take care of him, to hold him, kiss him and softly whisper poems to him. I wanted to hear his voice singing me to sleep and feel his hand holding mine, a smile on his face.

‘I love you’, he said, two years later.

It was too late. Much too late. My love was now a warm blanket I wrapped around him, taking care of him and praying he’d be ok, but I no longer wanted to see him the way I did.
Maybe if he had said those words earlier.

It’d been seven years since I first met him. He was my first love and always will be. He also is the first boy who proposed to me and introduced me to his mother as his fiancé.

He was the first boy to go down to the flower shop with me every morning the few weeks before Valentine’s day, facing (?) long-stemmed roses. He gave me heart-shaped earrings that twinkled in the light the last time we spent Valentine’s Day together.

He was the first boy to believe in the kindness of my heart, and never, ever doubt it. Not even for a second.

I believe there’s good in him, although I don’t speak to him anymore. The years flew by so rapidly, and he always knew he was good for me. Always.

And I always went for him. Always.


Or what happens when you can't use a dictionary properly.]]> Sun, 24 Jul 2005 15:54:41 +0200 80ab9475e312dee98eec02ecd6762432 http://pauvfille.over-blog.com/article-603932-6.html#comment564173 Fri, 22 Jul 2005 10:11:55 +0200 bdd993bfdea42fb72b8d6584aa3ddde5