This City


This is what lonely feels like —

returning back.

The road to hell is paved
with missed connections,
I’m sorry’s and
maybe later’s.

It’s in a cup of coffee,
left to cool,
turned to curdled gunk
when remembered.

It’s in a hello text,
after years of inactivity
to a number that no longer exists.

It’s kept on the back burner,
burnt waffle
and melted ice cream.
It is here.

Returning back.

To the place where
sun burns
and heat’s
stuck to your skin

T-shirt dripping
with sweat
and faces of people
who have gotten older.

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