Why is it when we lose lovers, we lose places?
The city which you so boldly walked becomes infested, haunted by ghosts of that ever-living love. It’s no longer yours, no longer a whole – it’s formed by places you spent in those idle waking loving hours, grateful to have and be had.
I sometimes wonder if towns don’t truly belong to us. They belong to memory and to the people we share them with.
The fingerprints and footsteps and tiny bits of soul we leave behind last, sustain, endure.
We build this city not with brick and mortar but with emotion and experience, only to lose it to the person we built it with.
My town. Your town. My things. Your things.
There is no more us, but the city reminds us.
"“Why is it when we lose lovers, we lose places? The city which you so boldly walked becomes infested, haunted by ghosts...
“Why is it when we lose lovers, we lose places? The city which you so boldly walked becomes infested, haunted by ghosts...