This City, pt. I

I
This city is hot and cold
with burning passion
as dead as flies
slapped together by
a large stroke of the hands
I will never hold, never touch, never feel again
oh, woe is me.

II
On busy streets, we walk past
each other, it's strange how
we used to know better
Daydreams!
Nothing more.

III
Easy, wasn't it?
to leave, forget
Better, baby?
You. Never.
Questioned.

IV
Green.
Blink.
Red.
Across.

V
Stop, and
feel the beauty
with-
in
what was us.