Copenhagen II

A lavish homesickness and break-up put me in the paysage of cobblestones, virtualized by the pristine, color-dyed monuments. The tension in my arm and shoulder tortures me in vain. The isolation drops me to my knees amid the crowd. I lie down while the crowd spits on me to stand up, but I ease the street. A girl in a white crop top and summer shorts touches my left arm to dispel the memories of shame and guilt. Your skinny arms and your blonde hair hypnotize me with your blue gaze. Your running watch aligns with the facade of your early smile, before rain pours.  You lift me up and close my eyes in a jolt of numbness, but your floral cologne. Then, the countdown starts.

I know you are going through a hard time. 

Sometimes, going to the library and doing my work helps me forget the past.

Whether you are alone or not, you've waited long enough for the dream between us. 

We're holding hands and walking upon the piers, while seagulls greet us with aggression. 

Time tells us this rain is the end of despair and uncertainty.