Moitié

Fold me in the present.
Tuck the corners in, can't fall out. 
Slugs and sloths hang about.
Soul is attached, 
cut then catch, 
what should have never roamed. 
He's on his grind, 
This one's lost his mind, 
and I keep myself somewhere in the middle. 
I want to sail seas.
Chase my blue coast breeze.
Speak my other tongue and remember me.
I love this place, I love that place too.
Half here, half there means somewhere in between you're missing. 
I don't pretend,
I don't attempt to hide it. 
Half lit eyes keep me divided.
Paris, 
Cannes, 
mostly Monaco.