My city is not built of walls,
But memories cemented by senses.
A Colosseum of an evening;
Of rustling sheets and the smell of ***
Bright strawberries and smoke on my tongue.
A Forum of conversations,
Of late nights sat on steps,
A little worse for wear.
Piazzas and Palazzos
Of dinners and nights.
Each stone a touch, a look, a kiss
Until our city is as eternal as this,
Populated only by me'
Watching it crumble.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
My city is not built of walls,
But memories cemented by senses.
A Colosseum of an evening;
Of rustling sheets and the smell of ***
Bright strawberries and smoke on my tongue.
A Forum of conversations,
Of late nights sat on steps,
A little worse for wear.
Piazzas and Palazzos
Of dinners and nights.
Each stone a touch, a look, a kiss
Until our city is as eternal as this,
Populated only by me'
Watching it crumble.
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