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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