A passer-by
Your routes were calling my name.
Your passion,
your sweat,
your shady lanes,
your happy children,
your slanders,
your knowledge,
your sins,
your addresses,
your falls;
I see it all in your eyes, a painting of madness.
A story of a city once existed in your heart. I used to be apprehended, my prince. Love was a conception you conceived, and I’m just a passing lover in a crowded city.
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