A pleasant sunny day,
Turned cloudy and confusing.
When once we were inseparable,
We are now avoidable.

I was distracted,
Or unwilling.
Out of the corner of my eye,
My brain decided not to make the connection.
And then there you were,
Dead on in my view.

I saw you look away.
I saw you turn away.
The undying sign,
That you had no interest in saying hello.
At first I was hurt.
But then I decided that it must be for the best.
What would we have said?
"Hi, how are you?"
What would we have thought?
"Oh, look there's that girl."

By the time I recognized you,
It was time for me to go.
A million seconds,
A thousand opportunities,
Had come and gone,
And not a word was said.

We are nothing more,
And will always be,
Strangers in a park.

Getting up to pull back the curtains,
push up the heavy glass windows,
hearing the birds chirp,
cars honking,
and feeling the cool, fresh breeze.
Breath.

Rub those sleepy eyes.
Yawn for one last time.
The hardwood floor is cooling to the touch of bare feet.
Blankets don't want to let go.
Breath.

Coffee is brewing.
Slip out of the silky jumper.
Clean off last night's cosmetic stains.
White tee, jeans, and converse.
Radio is playing songs that call for driving.
Breath.

Travel mug, keys, phone, and sunglasses in hand.
Car clicks open.
Windows roll down.
Yesterday's LuckyStrike scent lingers still.
Breath.

Camera bag is in the back seat.
Not a cloud in sight.
The roads are endless.
Breath.

Breathing is easier today.
It's a perfect Sunday morning.

As the sun is rising, every pastry and sandwich deli is opening its windows and doors.
Every time there is the slightest breeze, there's an undeniable sweet smell that takes over all of your senses.
Private cars, taxis, fashionable bikers, and speedy pedestrians.
Every one of them with a purpose they are on their way to.
Mornings are actually one of the brightest times of the day here.

The roads are cobblestone and crowded.
The parks are filled with sweet cafés and bitter cigarette smoke.
The young and old are scattered on the lawns.
The sky is the limit for young, adventurous souls.
The city is large enough for boredom to be scarce.
The city is small enough to walk through in a day.

As the sun is setting, shop keepers are drawing their blinds and closing the doors.
Wind starts blowing only the sweetest of hazelnut scents in every direction.
Carousals are all lit up and spinning nonstop.
Private cars, taxis, fashionable bikers, and coupled pedestrians.
Street and strung up lights take place of the mornings shrouded sunlight.
Evenings are of the most romantic times here.

The music will ****** your heart.
The sweets will indulge your stomach.
The books in the stores are dusted with curious fingers flipping through their fragile pages.
The bridges are waiting to be weighted with new and old love.
The city is charming enough for all friends.
The city is romantic enough for lovers.

Breathing is not a chore here,
Because it's the city of lights,
And it holds my heart.