Oh Berlin


Berlin, you blissful backyard of hidden footpaths.
You secret garden of blossoming hearts. 
You bustling underground of coffee-stained subway maps.
You aching backpack.
You proud and shameless walk home in last nights' crinkled clothes.
You kingdom to a traveling hearts' throne.

Berlin, you empty loft. 
You basements of bare-stripped wallpaper.
You hour-long waits just to get a glance in the door.
You roaring 20s, you silent 2000s.
You most unpretentious hipster.
You genuine, unironic appreciation.
You bohemians and children and the warmest place I've hung my coat.
You simultaneously ice-chilled bones.
You contradictions.

You stumbling on salted street corners.
You laughter illuminated by half-imagined headlights.
You sleeping in through sunlight.
You hiding beneath walls of white cotton castles.
You squeaky, squeaky bunk bed.
You nostalgia for new experiences,
You expat never exiting.
You creativity, you trust, you complete lack of angst,
you every familiar embrace.
You dream-chaser, you carpe diem, you dance anyway,
you every hopeless cliche.

Berlin, you thief.
You collection of stolen hearts.
You every past and future.
You home.
You home now.
You bring me, finally, home.

No comments:

Post a Comment