Months have rolled by.
More like trudged past, like boots stuck in mud during the rain.
Your name tastes like mint and memory flavored poison on my tongue, and yet my mind wants to reminisce; remember you as "home".
But all that you left behind from your invasion was falling brick and a shaky foundation.
I believed that I was the city that held its walls high enough to protect you from the world.
From yourself.
But cannon fire rings the loudest when it's fired from within.
And even still, I find myself forgiving you.
Not because you deserve my forgiveness, but because these broken and battered walls of my heart can no longer carry the burden of your name.