when I think of you
i think after rain smell
sky scrapers and bridges
tinted by fog, the busy streets
empty yet filled with grey
you carried yourself
like your body was a
tourist's favorite love poem
nothing but a weekend
for foreigners, your soft spots
were man made and
your spine was cemented
so it's easier for people to
step on you
I cared for you
after the tornadoes hit
when your oceans were hallow
and just sand
I did not resort in you
you were not five stars to me
you were constellations

I wonder where you are now
off being someone else's city
when you could've always just been
my home