Eighteen miserable months of rancorous disputes later,
I finally returned to the city I called home.
The city where hope slips like fog between fingers and the moon has a Cheshire grin. The city where nightmares blossom like hyacinths in spring.
The city where she resides.
I’ve heard, in her eyes, countless constellation ignites, while that winged seraph plays her lyre’s strings.
I have heard, she en-clasps dysfunctional catastrophes in her wings, as her voice stretches out in the horizon, calming the raging waters of the ocean.
I am broken but I am blessed.
Some ruins hold treasures far priceless than the rest.
I will pour my heart, bare my soul,
To satisfy her abstract empathetic being and everything which I once considered my own.
Perhaps, she will extirpate my dreadful delusions,
Sing a lullaby to soothe my irate emotions.
I hope to meet her tonight, and with every counting breath, surrender something.
Perhaps, that’s why I’ve come back to this city,
the city that has her, the city where silence scream.